Hello, all. This is a quicky slash story I wrote for the wonderful, amazing, licklicious rmhaleff and fucktacular, amazing VanPireNZ for the Fandom Gives Back fundraiser. It's already complete, so the updates will be regular.

Craploads of thanks to vampireisthenewblack for all of her beta work, plot pounding (*snicker* I said pounding) and all around awesomeness.

If you don't do m/m slash, I know plenty of fantastic fics that might better suit you. Please see my favorites list.

I own nothing. It's all SM's.

~1~

"In this day and age, there's little need left for pencils and paper. Computers have taken over the monotonous tasks of organization, communication, and even making a straight line for us. As this has become the case, it has been increasingly difficult to teach college students to do anything without a computer, even something as simple as draw."

Professor Banner moved around the room, weaving between tables as he passed each student a copy of the semester's syllabus.

"In fact, I'm willing to bet that most of you aren't in this class by choice, but rather to fulfill a general education requirement for your degree in graphics design, photography, or art history, even."

I looked down at the paper he placed on my desktop, noting that everything he had just said was right there in print. I wondered how many times he'd gone over this same speech.

"It doesn't matter what your major is though. Drawing is an important facet of art. But, more than that, it's a craft that's ingrained in our very existence."

He returned to the front of the classroom and looked around at the small group of students. "Since the beginning of time, people have been expressing themselves through art, all the way back to Mesolithic cave paintings of our ancestors."

I suddenly found myself wondering if he'd notice if I dozed off for a bit. It didn't seem I'd be missing anything since he was reciting the syllabus verbatim.

"How many of you remember getting a bright new box of crayons when you were little and immediately setting about creating a masterpiece on Mom's living room wall?"

The class chuckled, myself included, finally showing signs of life. I certainly remembered something very similar to that involving markers and my closet doors. My mother hadn't been upset like most would. She simply handed me a paintbrush and told me to finish the job I'd started. Of course, she wouldn't condone such acts anywhere else in the house, but in my room, my canvas was anything I wanted it to be. As my age and interests changed, so did the walls of that bedroom.

"Is this seat taken?" someone asked. I looked up to see the person attached to the voice; a tall guy of medium build smiling down at me. He seemed friendly enough.

He didn't wait for me to answer before flopping his sketchbook down on the table and pulling out the chair beside me.

Professor Banner continued. "I will do my best to keep you engaged and encourage your creative growth, but I do expect you to be here and on time." He glared pointedly at the guy next to me. "I'm glad you could join us, Mr. Masen. We aren't going to have a repeat of last semester, are we?"

"No, Sir," the young man said as the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

"Good then." Professor Banner continued to read off the syllabus to us, going over our expectations, grading procedures, supply list and university policies, after which he gave us the simple instruction of introducing ourselves to our classmates.

"For the next sixteen weeks, they will be your partners, confidants, critics, best friends and worst enemies."

I arched an eyebrow at his statement, glancing around the room and wondering which of these giggling fresh-out-of-high school peers of mine might end up an enemy, and why.

"I really didn't cause any trouble last semester." The guy next to me was staring at me intently. "I mean, I missed a few critiques due to conflicting scheduling, but that was all." I wondered why he was explaining all this to me. "I'm Edward, by the way." He extended a hand which I took briefly.

"Jasper," I returned.

"Well, Jasper," he said with smirk. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

"What?"

"Partners," he stated matter-of-factly. "Professor Banner teams his classes up based on tables, and since yours was the only one available when I got here, it means I'm all yours."

"Excuse me," a soft voice rang out from behind us. We both turned to see a tiny girl with short, dark hair looking at us sternly. She moved around us, sliding gracefully up on the tabletop next to Edward, smoothing her skirt and crossing her legs.

"Alice!" Edward said, standing to hug the girl.

"I thought you were all mine," she pouted.

Edward laughed in response as he returned to his seat.

"I had a meeting with my advisor this morning," she said. "So I'm a little late, but this will be my table, too." The girl turned her attention to me, her gaze traveling up and down my body twice before meeting my eyes. "I suppose I could share." She winked at me. "Name and rank, soldier."

I stood to introduce myself properly to the lady. "Um…sophomore, design major, Jasper Whitlock, ma'am." I responded in my most polite tone.

"Ma'am? Wow, your mother certainly raised you right." She smiled at me flirtatiously. Was everyone in this place bursting with confidence, or had I just somehow landed myself straight into the center of the bubbling crack-pot?

"Freshman, design major, Alice Brandon. Edward here is majoring in music theory and composition."

"Did you just transfer here this semester, Jasper?" Edward asked as I took my seat again. I wasn't sure why I would notice such a thing, perhaps it was mention of him being a music major, but his voice seemed smooth, almost melodic to me.

"I did." I kept my response short and simple, worried that my nerves would cause my own voice to falter.

"Where are you from?" asked Alice.

"Texas. Amarillo area."

"Damn," Edward said, looking slightly shocked. "You're quite a ways from home."

I shrugged. "I like it here. The change of scenery is a good way to keep the creative juices flowing."

"Yeah, I guess so. Isn't Seattle pretty much the opposite of Amarillo?" He was still staring at me as he spoke, as if trying to read me. I shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure what it was about this guy that made me feel both relaxed and nervous in equal measures, but he did nonetheless.

Another guy with sandy-blonde hair and a giant smile walked up to us, punching Edward lightly on the shoulder.

"Hey, is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

Alice chuckled, wrapping her arms around the newcomer.

"It's probably me." Edward crossed his arms and stretched out his legs casually. "I mean, you aren't bad to look at, Mike, but come on."

Alice pointed a finger at Edward. "There are plenty of other guys on this campus for you to be looking at, you leave mine alone."

"Hey, Mike knows he's not my type anyway," Edward said.

Ah, I thought to myself. Maybe that was where the small amount of discomfort was coming from. Edward was gay. He didn't look gay. Does gay really have a look? I wondered.

I noticed he was wearing a pair of black, steel-toed boots, nice looking jeans, and a tight black t-shirt. His hair was neatly out of control, if there could be such a thing. None of these things really screamed "gay" to me, but what the hell did I know?

Edward cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to his eyes. I realized I had been staring at him a beat too long and I raised an eyebrow in silent apology. He really seemed like a nice guy, and I didn't want my first friend in this new place to think I was n asshole.

"Jasper," Alice said kindly. "This is my boyfriend, Mike.

"I'm table-jumping," said Mike. "You guys don't mind, do you? Even numbers and all."

Everyone returned to their seats as Professor Banner called order to the class once more.

"On the back of your syllabus," he began, adjusting his glasses on his nose and flipping his paper over. "You'll find that list of supplies I mentioned. The sketchbook, fourteen by seventeen inch medium surface drawing pad, kneaded eraser, and your 3B and 6B pencils are all needed immediately, though everything else can be safely postponed for a couple of weeks. If you plan to purchase all of your supplies at the campus bookstore, I do encourage you to do so as soon as possible. Last semester, Professor Cope's 2-D design class bought out all of the art supplies within the first few days of the semester."

Having left basically everything I owned behind when I came to Seattle, I knew I would need to be quick about getting my supplies. The campus bookstore was easy access, and since I had flown here and left my car behind, I didn't want to have to take public transportation around an unfamiliar city in search of an art supply store.

"We're almost out of time today, but let me go ahead and explain your first assignment. You'll need to take a piece of your sketchbook paper and separate it into six sections. This isn't geometry, so I don't require them to be equal or perfect. In each section, I'd like you to draw a simple interpretation of the following emotions."

Professor Banner uncapped a dry erase marker and began to write on the whiteboard. People in the class groaned and complained with each word he added: love, hate, happy, sad, mellow, and nervous.

"Can we get an example?" one student asked.

"Ah, that's an excellent question," the professor responded. "And the answer is no." Another collective groan throughout the room.

"I don't want to actually show you any examples because I'd like to see what your ideas of 'simple' are, but it's all open for discussion. What are some ideas you all have?" He looked around the room for a volunteer response, but the class was now silent. "Come on, you're all art majors. What will you give me for sad?"

My thoughts wandered as I contemplated his question. Dark images of empty spaces swirled within my mind only to be replaced seconds later by a monochromatic scene of a dry, crackling desert plain.

"An empty vase," Alice voiced from across the table. I looked up, noticing that her eyes suggested she meant more than just a lack of flowers.

"Textbooks," another student shouted, earning a laugh from the rest of the class.

"Republicans," Edward added just loud enough for our own table to hear. We laughed quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of Professor Banner.

I had never been too into politics—most of the state of Texas was comprised of uptight republicans—but it had never really phased me until I found myself in a more liberal area. People were far less judgmental of one another around here. Even I, with my faded jeans, concert shirts, and hair that—according to my mother—was just a bit too long, seemed to blend in nicely.