Model Behavior, the Lines and Shades Remix
by northern

Part of the We Invented the Remix challenge, original by Kittie J. Verdena.

He took the job because it seemed like easy money. Standing around, getting drawn by people. Sure as hell beat doing dishes, and it was only the very mildest form of selling his body. He needed the money, and his friend had said it was pretty okay, as long as he stayed with the agency and didn't try to take any offers of private sessions or anything. He'd seen the look accompanying the advice, and decided to take it seriously.

Standing around turned out to not be so easy.

First, there was the taking off his clothes bit. He hadn't really realized that he'd be doing nude posing the first thing he did. The professor's assistant had called it 'crowkee' or something. But he guessed that the unclothed bit had been kind of understood, when he turned up and one of the assistants told him he could store his clothes and things in the art supply room.

He made himself go through with it, but it was sure as hell different from public showers. All of them studied him intently, and he told himself he wasn't being a person here, just a set of lines and shadows. It made him feel cheap, but it got him through the first session while the students scratched away with their weird black sticks.

Secondly, it was fucking hard to stay still. Sure, he got breaks, when he could stretch and jump up and down for a bit, but those breaks were really far apart, and he hadn't known how dependent he was on moving all of the time. It seemed like the professor told him to 'hold the position, please' every two seconds.

After nearly two years of it, he'd gotten much better. He felt like he had a second set of clothes, now. He became familiar enough with the classes that he recognized some students, this one always heaving great big sighs, that one constantly munching on apples. He made up stories about them in his head to keep things interesting. The only danger was being bored, and thinking about sex, but that didn't happen as often as he would have imagined. Apparently, exhibitionism wasn't his kink.

There was a new, interesting guy at his new Thursday gig that he noticed right away. At first he looked over because this guy next to him was telling a joke in a loud voice, but as soon as the punch line came, Interesting Guy doubled over, giggling. Real, honest giggling.

Then the class started, and Chris had almost no chance to watch anymore. The impression he caught from the corner of his eye was of a lanky kid, with curly, wild hair and an absolute focus on what he was doing. Which was drawing Chris. Of course, everyone was supposed to be drawing him, and he was sure they did, but Interesting Guy seemed to have this little pocket of silence and space about him, with room for only the invisible line between his eyes and Chris.

It made Chris horny, to think about it.

He spent the rest of the hour desperately trying not to, since popping a boner on a gig for a college class was a really sure-fire way to get fired. Interesting Guy kept hovering at the edge of his vision, though, refusing to let Chris go with his line-of-vision thing. Chris had to resort to thinking about utterly disgusting things, like his bathtub, which hadn't been cleaned in... how long had he stayed there, now?

Interesting Guy disappeared quickly enough after class, so Chris didn't see him when he came out of the art supply room again. He was oddly disappointed.

The two following Thursdays weren't easier on him. Interesting Guy sat there, drawing away furiously, completely focused on him and nothing else. Chris hadn't felt so... exposed since his first gig. He was grateful he had his positions to keep to, or he wouldn't have known where to turn. Interesting Guy's loud friend cracked a joke about drawing his "naughty bits" that even he could hear, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to start laughing hysterically.

When the third Thursday gig in a row ended, and the art students started packing their stuff up, Chris hurried to get dressed, not waiting for the professor to thank him. Interesting Guy was kneeling by the elevator, all of his stuff spread in a ring around him on the floor. He looked tired.

"Hey, need any help?" Chris stopped beside him.

Interesting Guy looked up, but didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't recognize him with his clothes on. Stupid thought! He started picking things up anyway. It was good to be helpful, and very good to be helpful to a good-looking guy who may or may not remember you.

"You're in that figure drawing class," he said, hoping that might trigger his memory. Chris knew he didn't have a very interesting face or body, but people usually remembered him anyway.

The guy mumbled something Chris couldn't hear and then he introduced himself. "JC Shazay."

Pretty funny name there. Sounded like Jesus Christ with magic or something. Chris couldn't stop himself from smiling.

"JC, huh? That short for something?" he asked, so the kid wouldn't think he was making fun of him.

JC explained what his name was about, and Chris introduced himself. Chris was happy to make conversation, and JC seemed more comfortable after a while. He looked even more interesting up close. Sure, there wasn't that intense concentration thing going on — more of a blushing and stammering thing, really — but JC was a seriously pretty guy. He'd definitely like to see more of him. Chris carried his stuff for him to his car, to get as much time as possible with him. Maybe he should, hm, ask him on a date, or something.

They talked a little about modelling, and Chris pulled out the obvious comment about having a hard time controlling his thinking, so he wouldn't get a hard-on, but then JC looked embarrassed and mumbled something really quiet, and all but rushed ahead to his car. Argh! Argh! Stupid fucker, fucking thing up! Chris mentally kicked himself.

"Hey, sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he apologized. "Sometimes my mouth just keeps going even after my brain tells it to stop." There was no way JC would want to go out with him now, and Chris prepared to help put JC's stuff in his car, say goodbye nicely and go catch the bus. He'd have missed it by now, but there was another in, what, ten minutes?

"Would you like to have lunch with me?"

Chris started. And where did that come from? "Lunch? Like... now?"

He looked at JC, who was looking down, and shuffling his feet, like a fucking little boy. Chris stared at him hard. Maybe he was the kind of art geek that secretly murdered models, and chopped them into little pieces and sent them in packages to their mothers. Or maybe ate them.

"Yes. If you don't have plans," JC persisted, still looking much too cute and shy to be a bestial cannibalistic axe-man.

And of course Chris caved. It wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself, and he didn't think JC was going to try and slip him something.

Chris thought he was maybe a little paranoid. Chris thought he was not going to fuck this up further.

And then they wound up at a sushi place. Sushi. Raw fish. Chris sighed inwardly and thought about food poisoning. What he suffered to indulge the strange habits of strange guys with intense eyes. Not that JC had been looking very intensely at him at all so far. Mostly, he seemed to avoid looking at Chris at all as they made small talk at the restaurant table. The wine was good, though. And the beans, even if they did look like insects.

JC munched happily along as he talked about graphics and Macs, and Chris soon found himself with an empty bowl in front of him and a pretty nice tart aftertaste in his mouth. It reminded him of something.

"How old are you, anyway?" he asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't." JC looked very earnest. "I'm 25."

So, not too young, then. It was good to know.

"I remember 25," he said, wincing inwardly at the patronizing way that came out. He took a sip from the cup he hadn't tasted yet and winced for real at the bitterness. Damn, but this tasted more like what he'd expected! Weird Japanese cooking. He put the cup down quickly. "It was a good age," he added.

JC looked at him with a small smile. The prompting kind.

"I'm 29," he said, but the lie grated a little too much in his mouth while confronted with that earnest face. "...and 13 months," he clarified, feeling much better.

JC's smile grew slowly, giving way to a delighted little laugh. Very adorable. Sweet, even. "Twenty-nine forever, huh?" he said, and Chris couldn't help smiling along with him.

Suddenly he felt completely carefree.

The sushi was easy after that. Went down without much protest at all. Some of it was even good, which was more than a little surprising. JC kept smiling at him, blushing now and then. Chris didn't think there was much doubt about it anymore — JC really did seem to want him. Hell, he even listened to Chris's ideas about starting his own company, looking positively entranced. Chris knew a good thing when he saw it. Or, maybe a few hours after he saw it. Or, um... was that a good metaphor to use at all?

It didn't matter. JC was sitting with his chin in his hand, his other hand fiddling with his hair now and then. He looked at Chris as if Chris was the center of his world, and suddenly he couldn't remember what he was going to say, because that was what he'd been missing. There it was. Chris felt like the only thing holding him upright was JC's gaze, and the feeling was making his stomach do warm and lazy flips.

When JC broke the tension by suddenly blinking and taking a drink from his mug, Chris had to prevent himself from gasping. JC smiled at him, as if nothing had happened.

"I can't believe we have so much in common," he said, putting his empty mug down. He had that earnest look on again. "I would've never thought I'd have a chance in Hell with you." Then he froze up, eyes going wide. "Um... That is..." he started.

Chris felt light-headed. He didn't think he could blame the wine. His mouth ached from smiling, but it wasn't as if he cared.

"Really? You were thinking about... having a chance? With me?" Every word was easy to say and today was his luckiest day ever ever.

JC still looked bothered, and he was trying to say something. Chris thought it sounded like an apology, and he wondered how JC could not know what a completely and utterly sure thing Chris was. At this point, he didn't care if JC kicked puppies in his free time.

He reached under the table and touched JC's hand, where it rested in his lap. "Good," he said. "Because I was kind of hoping all of your blushing and stammering meant I had a chance with you."

JC stopped trying to say anything. Just looked at him again, that slow smile of his growing and growing.

Everything was bright as sunshine. Chris had a feeling he was going to need shades for this.