X-Men: First Class Fanfiction: Autumn Edition
Autumn Edition.
Summary: Model!AU. Pre-slash, Erik/Charles. Erik is the world's top male model, but notoriously difficult to work with. It seems Charles is the exception to this rule.
A/N: Original prompt. I have no real knowledge of the modelling industry so my apologies for any discrepancies.
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“I can’t take it anymore!” Janos exclaimed. “Pompous, arrogant, little piece of-” The rest of his outburst was in Spanish, but it wasn’t hard to tell when someone was swearing, no matter what the language was. He wasn’t exactly ambiguous with his hand gestures either; the middle figure was possibly a universal condemnation in this day and age.
“Look who’s talking!” Erik snapped back, interrupting the flow of criticism. Apparently he could speak fluent Spanish too, since he added a few choice sentences that made Janos absolutely bristle with indignation. The following silence was deafening.
“I quit!” Janos finally snarled. “I fucking quit because this fucker,” and he pointed angrily at Erik, “has a stick up his ass that’s probably tickling the back of his throat. I hope you choke on it, you bastard.” The last comment was very venomously directed at Erik, before Janos stormed away.
Even angry, Janos looked excellent. Of course, Raven attributed that to her frankly fantastic hair and make-up work; though unfortunately no one would get to actually see it since the shoot was ruined. Again.
Raven blew at her nails before filing them down a little more. She was hardly surprised. In fact, she’d barely twitched while watching the entire showdown. Erik was rather notorious in the business for being ... difficult, to say the least.
Emma, however, wasn’t taking things quite so calmly.
“Erik!” Emma yelled. “Do you have to do that to every damned partner we assign you to? Do you want to be fired? There’s only so much shit I’ll take from you. Pull a stunt like this again and you won’t be able to work in this industry again-”
“Please, spare me the hysterics,” Erik said coolly, blowing a silver plume of smoke in the air. “You know I’m the only model you’ve got who can go up against Shaw. Do you remember that summer line you premiered without me?”
His words clearly struck a chord in the photographer, whose anger switched to a seething disquiet. The way she was gripping her camera looked slightly painful, and Raven wondered whether those fake nails would crack under the pressure.
A small smile graced Erik’s chiselled features when nothing more was said and he went back to his cigarette. The bags underneath his eyes were beginning to show and Raven made an idle mental note to fix them up. Not that there would be much point. The selection they needed to photograph needed two male models, not one.
Despite what Erik may think, he couldn’t do everything himself. Even Shaw had a decent partner in Azazel. Considering how angry Janos was earlier, maybe a new addition to their team as well.
Word was getting around in the industry that Erik was bad news, despite how amazingly photogenic he was. They would be running out of willing models soon. Money, too, if they had to keep redoing shot after shot. It was autumn and the weather outdoors wouldn’t be this nice again for a while. They really had to capitalise on it.
Too bad Erik missed the memo on team effort.
Looking up, Raven noticed Emma was looking like she was about to have a meltdown. Sighing to herself, Raven walked over to her and attempt to console her as best she could-she’d certainly had a lot of practice perfecting her technique, especially after the fifteenth time this had happened.
“Men are bastards,” turned out to be the best opening line, and as predicted it drew a laugh from Emma.
“I know,” Emma said. “I just wonder why we got the worse apple of the bunch.”
“Do apples come in bunches?”
“I don’t think they do, but humour me.”
Raven gently pulled the camera from Emma’s grip before saying, “Maybe you’re being tested and your reward is an orgy of hot guys?”
“If only.” Emma leaned back in her chair and exhaled heavily. “Do you reckon we should take a few solo shoots and then pack it up? Only I don’t think I have a free day this month to reschedule all of this. And the editor will kill me if I don’t bring home something.”
“You’re more experienced than me. Just do what you think best,” Raven said, fiddling with the buttons on the camera. She liked making the pictures sepia or black and white. It was fun seeing the world in a different light; that’s what drew Raven, in part, to modelling and make-up in the first place.
Before she could say otherwise, Raven snapped a candid shot of Emma, who was looking at her with a twisted, self-depreciative half smile.
“Hey!” Emma growled playfully. “Give it back.”
“Nope,” Raven said, pulling the camera out of reach. “You need at least five minutes to yourself, and Erik’s not going to be cooperative ‘til that cigarette is all ash. Take a breather, hon.”
“Ah, you’re right,” Emma said, shoulders relaxing. Leaves fell down from the trees around them, a rain of striking reds, oranges and yellows.
Raven glanced at the photo she took and commented, “You don’t clean up half bad yourself.”
“I was a model before I went into photography; you know that, right?”
“Now, I do,” Raven replied, faintly amused. What type of drama could Emma Frost, photographer extraordinaire, have achieved in her hey-day?
Before Emma would reply with some cutting remark-possibly about how Raven’s hair was decidedly bright red today-there was a commotion not too far from them. It seemed there was a man who had bumbled his way onto their set without realising. He had knocked over a light, thankfully not breaking anything, but had pissed off the guy in charge of it.
“Sorry about that, my friend. I wasn’t paying attention,” he apologised, looking entirely earnest with a lovely English accent. Raven’s heart may have melted a bit when she saw his eyes-was always a sucker for blue eyes, kind of why she always fancied Erik in the tiniest of ways. When she could forget how he behaved, of course.
In her chair, Emma straightened up and snapped, “Out! Out, out, out!” Each word was sharp and loud like a pistol firing.
Not many people could say no to Emma, though to his credit, the man looked more startled than truly terrified. He mouthed a rueful ‘sorry’ to her, even though a wide smile didn’t seem quite able to slide off his face. Raven looked at him a little more closely.
The man looked kind of rugged, appearing to have forsaken shaving for long enough to appear comfortably masculine without being too much. He was dressed cleanly, though slightly rumpled, as though he was on his way home from work-or college, really, since his face was youthful and unlined, and his good mood seemingly unable to be tempered. Short brown hair, fair skin, a little shorter than Raven’s usual tastes, but-
“Please get out of my sight!” Emma barked. “Now!”
Too bad Emma was in such a bad mood. Raven slumped slightly. Normally she would have gone over to talk to the man, but this was not the best time to stir up her boss. Anyway, Erik looked as though he was nearly done with his cigarette.
Impulsively, Raven raised the camera in her hands and grabbed a photo of the stranger snatching one last glance of his shoulder. A shame not to get his number, Raven thought before looking down. She froze at what she saw.
“Emma, I think you should see this.”
*
*
When Charles first heard the yell, “Oi, pretty boy, get your ass back over here!” he didn’t react to it. For good reason, too, since the lady had spent most of her time yelling at him to move-she was probably ordering about another poor sod to photograph properly.
Then a small hand touched his shoulder, and he turned instinctively to see a grinning young lady look at him with gold-brown eyes. Her hair was startlingly red that curled at the nape of her neck, clashing with a vivid blue dress that fell to her knees.
With a laugh in her voice, she asked, “Have you ever considered becoming a model?”
Dear Lord, Charles thought, surprised. Did I just walk through one of those con booths by mistake?
“I’m sorry to tell you that I’ve never considered the profession,” Charles replied. He paused and tried to word his next thoughts with some tact. “Though I’m sure it’s an enjoyable and fulfilling career choice, I am not interested in-ah, um-paying for ‘sample shots’, or whatever you may be offering-”
“No,” the woman said, unable to hold back a laugh at this. She held out her hand and said, “My name’s Raven; Raven Darkholme. I’m the senior make-up artist at the little fiasco you happened to pass through before.”
“Charles,” he said, smiling and shaking her hand. Her nails were blue and patterned like scales; interesting. “Charles Xavier,” he clarified. “I’m a professor of genetics, though I’m studying some psychology too. So if you’re not looking for my money, what are you’re looking for?”
“A pretty face and a patient disposition,” Raven deadpanned with a gentle mirth in her eyes that made her look younger. “And it just so happens that you walked by...”
*
“Scraping the bottom of the barrel, are we?” Erik said scathingly to Emma. “As if Janos wasn’t bad enough, you’re just going to start pulling in strangers from the street?”
“What? Scared of a little competition?” snapped Emma. She was not in the mood anymore. Her heels were pointed and sharp. If she had to shove them up someone’s backside to get them to listen, she would. “Get in position and shut up. You’re prettier that way.”
“Could say the same about you, Frost.”
Refusing to rise up to the bait, Emma allowed the ever-stubborn Erik to have the last word. She could see Raven prepping Charles from the corner of her eye. She said something, causing him to laugh. They’d grown rather fond of each other very quickly. The man said he was a genetics professor-Emma couldn’t quite believe it, with a face like his.
Few people photographed well when they were unprepared for it. Especially with such an amateur photographer like Raven behind the lens. Hopefully, that charisma carries over to this shoot, she thought. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she figured that if Erik screwed this up then she’d be able to go home knowing she tried everything.
“Places, everyone!” Emma called, her tone switching to something akin to the bark of a drill sergeant. A welling of satisfaction rose in her when everyone moved to follow her orders.
Charles wandered over to her, tugging at the lapels of his designer jacket. He looked slightly dazed. Quietly, Emma thought he turned out rather well in the clothes, though they were the slightest bit too big for him. She saw a flash of silver at the cuffs and realised Raven probably pinned much of the material so that it would fit him. Clever girl.
“Are you sure you can’t find someone else?” he asked. “This seems rather excessive to do with someone like me.”
“You look fantastic,” Emma said. Perhaps not exactly what they were looking for in Janos, but Charles certainly made up for it-something in his eyes, perhaps. They were even bluer than Erik’s, and looked more innocent; lighter. A fresh look was what they needed, anyway.
“I don’t really know how to model,” Charles warned, causing Emma to shrug.
“Don’t over think it and you’ll be fine.”
“It’s most likely completely out of your depth,” Erik added unkindly. He seemed particularly agitated and Emma could tell he wanted another cigarette. “Just stand there and they’ll be able to shop you out of the pictures later.”
“I’m starting to see why the former model left,” Charles replied, unruffled. In fact, he seemed utterly amused, as if speaking to a child, his lips curved upwards in a lopsided smile. Raven was a little heavy handed with his lips, and they were a striking red; perhaps too rich for the autumn colour palette, but it suited him.
Erik shrugged, only saying, “Modelling isn’t just about standing around and smiling. You’ll probably run off faster than Janos.”
“Play nice,” Emma hissed at Erik, whose eyes flashed mischievously at her. In her normal voice, she asked them to stand side by side. Sighing internally, she raised her camera and started snapping away. Only a minute passed before Erik complained about the sunlight, or the humidity, or just something ridiculous to be a fucking pain in the ass.
She needed alcohol after this. Lots and lots of alcohol.
*
“Thanks for all of your help,” Raven said to Charles. “You’ve probably saved this entire shoot.”
They’d finished up about half an hour ago, after the sun was beginning to set and the weather was getting chilly once more. The shoot had taken two hours, yet Charles was cooperative and friendly the entire time, despite Erik’s snide comments.
“I do what I can,” Charles said. “Though I do hope I didn’t ruin anything.”
“You didn’t,” Emma called out distractedly from where she sat, busily checking all of the photos on her laptop. From her approving murmurs, the majority of them were acceptable.
“Is that all then?” Charles asked, shrugging on his jacket, nearly ready to leave. His face was mostly cleaned of make-up, though there were faint traces of eyeliner and lipstick still visible.
“A phone number would be nice,” Raven said teasingly. “Maybe a dinner, too?”
Pausing in buttoning up his jacket, he smiled and asked, “For your purposes or for the company?”
“A little of both?”
Charles chuckled, but added a little bashfully, “Sorry, Raven. You’re a nice person, but-ah-just not my type, I hope you understand. Just a matter of chromosomes.”
For a moment, Raven looked a little hurt and confused, then understanding dawned on her. “Oh. Oh. Damn, always the nice, good looking ones.”
“Do you still want my number?” Charles asked with a roguish grin, tips of his ears pink from the cold.
“Of course I do,” Raven said. “Just because I can’t sleep with you doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you. For a professor you’re surprisingly interesting.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last comment, shall I?” Charles said, pressing his details into Raven’s phone. She returned the favour with her number in his mobile.
Standing and walking over to them, Emma asked Charles, “Are you sure you don’t want a career in this? Your pictures aren’t half bad.” They were probably awful, Charles thought, though she was kind enough to offer.
“No, this will be a one off occasion I feel,” he said honestly. “My path lies with interpreting the building blocks of DNA and figuring out the human psyche.”
Emma shrugged and said, “Well, you know how to contact us.”
“Cheers, then,” Charles said, before quietly leaving. He saw Erik from the corner of his eye, smoking and studiously ignoring his gaze. For a moment, Charles considered whether he should say goodbyes to the man, but remembered the slightly cold reception of earlier and reconsidered it. Best not.
*
Erik touched Emma’s arm when she passed, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Around them, the lights and equipment were all being packed away and the sun was low on the horizon.
“What now?” she said tiredly.
Without preamble, he said, “I want to work with Charles again.”
“Excuse me?” Emma said, with no little measure of disbelief and amusement in her tone. “I thought you couldn’t stand him.”
“Hardly,” Erik replied, impatience welling inside of him. “He was far better than Janos or any of those other idiots I’ve had to work with before.”
“Didn’t you spend half the time snarking at-”
“Details,” Erik interrupted, waving off her protests. “It was hardly snarking, either. It was more like spirited debate.”
“I’m fairly certain you dismissed his world view and philosophies at one point.”
“Well, I’m sure he appreciated me correcting him.”
World peace, Erik remembered saying as they changed outfits, is a fool’s dream. A man as educated as Charles shouldn’t have been so idealistic and naive. Of course, Charles insisted, ‘Violence will not bring unity’ in a voice so earnestly pathetic, it was nearly endearing.
“Oh my God,” Emma snapped loudly. “Are you a child?”
The comment was so banal that Erik didn’t even bother to answer.
“Erik, he wasn’t even a freelancing model. We pulled him off the street,” she said. “And I’ve already asked him. He’s not interested.”
“See to it that he is,” Erik said, indifferently. He didn’t even allow Emma a chance to reply, walking away from her. “We’ll talk Monday,” he called over his shoulder.
A very distinct scream of frustration came from behind him. Emma was always rather vocal with her displeasure.
Charles Xavier, he thought to himself, lighting up another cigarette. Interesting man. He would certainly be looking forward to having a chance to talk to him again.
Red autumn leaves fell before him, the colour as dark as Charles’ lips.
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A/N: This is going to be part of a series. The next one is Winter Edition (I’ll be trying to do a one shot for each season, a chronological following of their relationship).