Figure Drawing 101
A/N: Hey all! So, this is both my first finished and first published fanfic, and I thought it only right that it should be for my favorite comedy series. Of course I don't lay any claim to Community, but I've certainly spent enough hours (okay, days) watching every episode, short, commentary, etc. and feel pretty happy with my smutty little story. Please share any critiques, reviews, etc. because I would absolutely love to know what you think! So without further ado:
Jeff stood up and stretched after finishing fifty crunches. He checked the small mirror hanging on the wall to make certain he had the exact look he was trying to achieve. His abs were solidly sculpted with just the slightest sheen, enough to say: "yes, ladies and gentlemen, this man before you is a modern Adonis" without crossing the line to "why is that guy covered in sweat in this chilly classroom, gross". Satisfied, he slipped on the bathrobe the professor had given him, pleased that it was at least somewhat soft. Nothing like the luxurious deep blue practically cashmere robe that he wrapped his perfect form in when he was in his apartment, but not a sketchy, ratty, too horrifying to retrieve the paper in, robe that he would expect from the Greendale art department.
He had signed up to be a model for the figure drawing class on a whim, knowing there was at least a small handful of attractive girls in the class he would enjoy taunting with his beautiful male form. He could already picture the flushed faces and shaking hands as they had to focus so intently on every delightful plain of his body, capturing each detail with their dainty fingers, wanting desperately to reach out and touch –
"Mr. Winger?" His reverie was broken by the professor sticking his head back in the room. Middle-aged, balding, with a serene, yet creepy, smile nearly always plastered on his face; there was something about Professor Carvelli that made you think he was omniscient in a "I have cameras everywhere" kind of way.
"Yes, professor? Are they ready for me?" Jeff asked, hands on his hips, smug smile on his lips.
"Not quite yet, Mr. Winger. But please feel free to come in and get acclimatized to the classroom. One of our regular models is just finishing up now, so you can get an idea of what you'll be doing."
Jeff didn't really know why he would need to get comfortable with the surroundings. After all, this would not be the first time he stood naked in public, though admittedly previous circumstances had been quite different than this situation. Still, he couldn't imagine anything that would make him uncomfortable.
As soon as he walked in the classroom he found a sight that was, in fact, somewhat discomforting. Right in front of him on a small wooden platform stood a pale, petite model that was the Venus to his Adonis. She was perfect, with long smooth curves shaping her neck, back, and perfect heart-shaped ass. Her pose was casual, yet graceful, and Jeff wasn't sure which of her curves he was most interested in. Her legs were proportionally long for someone so short, connecting to hips that flared out in a way that appealed to any male. Jeff felt a stirring in his loins, but couldn't take his eyes off her. He couldn't understand why no one in the class was taking in the same view he was, capturing this perfect posterior for posterity. He couldn't imagine what could be so fascinating from the other side of the classroom that they wouldn't be seated behind the model. Then Jeff began to think about what exactly might be more interesting in front and very quickly moved to the side wall to see what the aspiring artists were sketching. He hoped that there might truly be a benevolent god, and that the model would be 360 degrees of perfection.
There was certainly a god, but the jury was still out on his benevolence. Jeff found that the view from the front was inspiring, but his wingman shrank with shock as he realized that this very arousing creature was not Venus herself, but Annie Edison. He wanted to run from the room screaming, to flush his eyes with battery acid. He had been leering at a very naked Annie Edison. She was looking up at her left hand, completely unaware that a similarly naked Jeff Winger was in the same classroom, having all manor of inappropriate thoughts about her. He needed to leave now. He needed to take the pads of paper away from every person in the room, and then burn them, and after that he needed to go into a monastery for at least a year to cleanse his impure thoughts. Instead, he stood frozen, desperately trying to keep his eyes from looking back to her.
His eyes had other plans.
They decided they wanted to make sure that if they were going to be forced to stare at a monastery wall for year, they had better take in every inch of Annie, and convert it to memory fast. Those amazing thighs and hips, the small strip of dark hair leading down to her sex, something that was partially covered by the way she was standing, damn her. Her tiny belly button on a flat stomach and oh, dear god, her breasts. Annie had perfect breasts. Jeff's traitorous eyes had certainly taken stock of them before, pushing out those brightly colored cardigans so appealingly. He had felt them pressed against him when they had hugged, and those disastrous times that they had kissed. Still, he was not prepared for a full naked view of her molded by god himself breasts. He knew they were more than enough to fill his hands, and had to be unbearably soft. The nipples were the same rose pink as her lips, but the areolas were just barely darker than the porcelain skin that surrounded them. Jeff felt a fine sheen of perspiration begin to form on his body and knew he needed to divert his attention to anywhere else.
Unfortunately, he was surrounded by artists trying to capture every detail of the woman in front of him.
Not woman. Girl. Young, pretty, naïve, girl. One that blows small things out of proportion and attaches emotional significance to fortune cookies. This is not the girl you ever allow yourself to become the tiniest bit attracted to. This is the girl you protect from big bad wolves and dive bars and old egotistical jerks that were cynical by the age of seven and apathetically devoid of all emotions 'warm' and 'fuzzy'.
Jeff ranted to himself as he tried to look at anything but Annie. He found, however, that looking around the classroom was just making him more irritated. There were at least 20 students in the class, and each one was currently engrossed in observing every part of Annie's body in miniscule detail. They furrowed their brows and squinted their eyes to see just exactly how her shoulders sloped and how precisely the light cast shadows over her ribcage. He wanted to rip off his robe and wrap it around her, screaming that they were all horrible people that would rot in the very special hell Shirley always threatened him with any time Annie seemed unusually sad around him. He was just reaching for the belt of his robe when he heard the professor's voice from the other side of the room.
"All right everyone, that's enough. Turn to a new sheet and relax for a moment. Annie, as always, you were perfect. Everyone, thank Annie for her work here tonight." There was applause, applause, as Annie smiled and shifted, stretching the muscles that had stiffened. She looked around the classroom, and suddenly Jeff knew he should have run when he had the chance. As if in slow motion, her eyes moved over and found his, flickering immediately with joyful recognition, then suddenly darkening with realization. Those blue doe eyes widened as her pretty mouth dropped, and a warm pink blush travelled from her cheeks, down her neck, and began to spread alluringly over her chest when Jeff snapped his eyes away from its journey. She quickly looked around, found her own bathrobe tossed casually over a chair, and fled the room as she wrapped herself in the protective terry cloth cocoon.
"An – "
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we explore the male form. Let's welcome Mr. Winger, a first time model. As he is new, this will be a quick sketch session, only spending 15 minutes on his pose. Mr. Winger, you may take the platform, and place your robe on that chair."
Unable to escape now, Jeff followed the professor's instructions and tried to think of anything other than Annie.
Annie wasn't sure what she was going to do first: hyperventilate, vomit, or laugh hysterically. She had followed the advice of one of Britta's psych major friends and volunteered to model nude, hoping it would help her get over some lingering body issues and make her more at ease with her own skin. After posing for weeks, she had found the experience as liberating and exhilarating as she had hoped. She felt like some carefree mythical creature, completely at ease with her nakedness and comfortable was being observed so closely by a room full of her peers.
Those peers were not supposed to include her friends and under no circumstance were those peers to include Jeff Winger. Her stomach rolled again and she quickly sat down, ignoring the fact that she was only half dressed. Jeff Winger had just seen her naked. She was naked in front of Jeff Winger. She could feel the heat from her blush again as she remembered the stunned look on his face. He must have been so embarrassed seeing her like…that. He would probably never speak to her again and all the work they had done to repair the awkwardness between them this semester would be lost.
Annie groaned and grabbed the rest of her clothing. The look of horror on Jeff's face was frozen in her mind, and she knew he would never look at her the same way. She wanted to cry. To wipe away that terrified expression on his adorable face and return his…wait a second. She paused, her camisole only half on, as she thought back to his expression when she had caught his eyes. Now that she really thought about it, Jeff hadn't really looked horrified. Anxious, most definitely, like he wanted to run in five different directions and was too indecisive to actually move. He certainly hadn't looked disgusted, or even shocked. Truly, when Annie really considered the expression on Jeff's face, she would have to describe it as almost…guilty. She doubted it at first, but the truth of her discovery exploded through her mind. He had worn the same expression when he was out-ed for sleeping with Britta, when he was cornered about the origin of Fat Neil's moniker, and when the group had found out about their kiss after the Tranny Dance. Jeff Winger looked, undeniably, guilty.
Yet why would he feel guilty? Was he ashamed that he was there? That didn't ring true. Annie had, in some unconscious part of her mind, noticed that he had been wrapped in a model's robe, so clearly he had come to the class for the same reason she had. Okay, well perhaps not with the same motivation. She had no doubt that cocky Jeff was not modeling because of some overwhelming need to become comfortable being naked in front of other people. Annie blushed again as the realization that cocky Jeff was standing just on the other side of the wall, completely naked, and the cringed at her own entendre. Still, the heat on her skin didn't subside as she thought about Jeff posing without his expensive clothes and fancy underwear, and her mind couldn't help but fill in the few details about his body that she hadn't seen.
Bad Annie! It's rude to think about naked Jeff. At least, you aren't supposed to think about him like that when you're at school. Really, she shouldn't think of naked Jeff when she was in the shower or lying awake at night, but her will power was only so strong, and really Jeff would never fault her for being unable to overcome the allure of his physique.
She shook her head and grabbed her book bag. Her mind was not focusing on the points it was supposed to. She needed to figure out what sort of damage control she needed to do in order to face Jeff on Monday. She had the weekend, now, to let things calm down. Or would they only fester? If she didn't nip the situation in the bud now, would things just be worse when they finally did see each other? This didn't strike her as one of those things that was just not supposed to ever be acknowledged ever again, such as the time she ran into Shirley's husband Andre at Dildopolis buying "supplies" while she was headed upstairs to her apartment. No, this was one of those things that had to be confronted.
Annie groaned and kicked a locker lightly, not wanting to scuff her new ballet flats. What would be the mature, adult way to handle the situation? She knew deep down that no matter what she did, Jeff would say that she was over-reacting and making a big deal out of nothing. Yet his "oh no, my hand's in the cookie jar and I'm not ready with an excuse yet" look was certainly not in her imagination. Annie also knew that, despite how Jeff hounded her about being a little girl, he was no more adult about handling these situations than she was. He would probably just be awkward and distant and leave it up to her to bring up so that he could just laugh and raise that smug Jeff Winger eyebrow and say something like "really Annie, you're not the first girl I've seen naked. It was no big deal".
Annie felt her temper flare. Jeff had her at a complete disadvantage and she knew there was no way he wasn't going to find the easy way out and she'd be left in the most uncomfortable position possible. He had all the power. He had seen her naked. He would leave it up to her to bring it up. He would act weird until he could get away with her being the immature one.
"Not this time, Winger!" she said to the empty hallway as she began to march back to the empty classroom. The plan formed with each step she took. She would return to the classroom, completely ignore the completely naked Jeff, ask Professor Carvelli some question that she surely could make sound reasonable and pressing, and then walk out. Simple. Perfect. She would look breezy and cool and 100% at ease with the situation. Jeff would have to be the one to bring it up now, and then she could tell him he was overreacting.
She opened the classroom door with ease and immediately saw Carvelli at the back of the classroom, making one of the students incredibly nervous as he just watched the boy sketch. She crossed to him, not outright ignoring the figure at the front of the class, but not acknowledging him either.
"Annie. Did you forget something?"
"No, Professor, I just had a quick question that I wanted to ask."
"What is it?"
Oh shoot, what was it?
"Well, Professor I just thought that, after having been here so many weeks I might get to, um, maybe look at some of the work that's been done? I mean, I've stood in hundreds of poses and I just thought it would be interesting to see how people see me."
Whew. She came up with something and it didn't sound stupid or contrived at all. She ignored the weird twitch she felt in the base of her spine when Carvelli seemed to see right through her excuse, as well as the very strong sense that someone else's attention was burning a hole into her.
"I suppose we could. Remember though, these artists are only learning how to translate what they see onto paper. You don't want to get a complex if someone can't capture your proportions as they are."
"No, of course! I'm just…curious. And it might help me pick more challenging poses for them to capture!" She was on a roll now, and, if she was honest, she was excited to actually see some of the work of the students.
"Okay Annie, I can share some of the work with you, but only if you'll do me a favor."
"Sure!" Annie was too high on her own genius, flawless plan to even hesitate with her assent. Besides, she wasn't one to say no to professors who asked non-creepy favors.
"We would like to have a small exhibition of the students' work at the end of the semester. Might we use some of the sketches of you?"
Suddenly Annie didn't think her plan was so genius. It was one thing to appear naked in front of the small class of strangers who were more focused on drawing her than really seeing her. It was an entirely different story to have naked likenesses of her hanging all over the school for anyone and everyone to see. She would never be able to look at any of the members of the study group in the eye again. Annie was so caught up in the thought of hallways lined with nude portraits she forgot that she was trying not to look to the front of the room. She snapped to awareness too late, for she was very suddenly meeting the eyes of naked Jeff.
She was an idiot. Her plan was a disaster.
Jeff was lounging, lounging, on the platform, one long leg straight in front of him, the other bent to subtly cover what Annie flushed to think about. He propped himself on one arm effortlessly, the other draped over his knee. Someone had certainly cranked the heat since she had left the room and she resisted the urge to fan herself. She couldn't stop herself from looking at his body, knowing she had seen it unclothed before, but something about seeing him without those tiny boxer briefs he wore was just…different. She should have known that this would not empower her. Jeff was not vulnerable when he was naked…he was untouchable. Worse, his eyes caught hers and she was trapped, with the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that he was slowly choking her. That's when the slight smirk twitched on his lips and Annie thought she might faint.
"Annie, are you – "
"Absolutely Professor. You can hang all the pictures you like. Have a nice weekend."
"You too, Annie."
His dismissal gave her the propulsion she needed to break eye contact and march back out of the classroom.
"Idiot!" she yelled at herself as she practically ran to her car. This was one of the times she really, really wished she was 21. She really needed a drink.
"No," she whispered, stopping as she unlocked her car, a slight wave of relief washing over her. "I just need Caroline Decker."