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Elective	By : CeeCee Category: Comics > Archie & Co. Views: 3061 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Archies fandom. These characters belong to Archie Comics. I make no money from writing this piece of sh- I mean, fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Late Drop

Summary: Ethel’s job isn’t as uncomplicated as it was before. Neither is the situation with Moose.

Author’s Note: Can I just say thank you for a minute to cloudwalker425, who renewed my interest in this story? And to disarmlow, who pointed to this pairing in “This is Not a Love Story” and who gave me a shout-out. Thank you for giving my stories some support. That was nice.

Ethel’s stomach was a twisted up mess of knots as she waited on the uncomfortable chair outside of Professor Grundy’s office. Her cup of dorm cafeteria coffee was now lukewarm from the walk across campus in the chilly air. She took a sip of it anyway to distract herself. She heard her professor’s voice through the door, seeing the silhouette of her dark head through the fogged glass pane, and it was reassuring, almost comforting, hearing her voice that was so much like her high school teacher’s.

Ethel planned out her speech – her list of excuses – to Professor Grundy, trying to figure out how best to tell her she wanted to quit her job. She wondered if she had other models on stand-by for the life drawing class, if that was the kind of thing that required a “hiring pool,” like with secretaries or typists. Ethel snorted to herself at the thought. Nervousness made all kinds of crazy thoughts run through her head.

But it was so hard. Everything was so hard, ever since the night of the party.

She hadn’t run into Stan since then, which was a relief. She still saw his fraternity brothers walking around in their colors and letters, and it made her clench up and duck out of their sight, not wanting them to remember her face, or her dress, or the way she had hung all over their brother. Ethel kept mentally facepalming, kicking herself.

Ethel thought of Moose, how it felt to wake up to him that morning. It would be nice to have things on a “normal” footing between them, which might be helped by quitting the class. Stan had kissed her, and he had seen her naked. And she liked Moose best. That realization and change in their status strengthened her resolve.

“She might understand,” Ethel murmured under her breath. “This might not be a good fit. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I need more time to study-“ She clapped her mouth shut as she watched the people inside moving and rising from their chairs, and the student inside jerked open the door.

“We’ll see what we can do. I hope the change works out,” Professor Grundy called out, and then she smiled as she saw Ethel in the corridor. “Well, hello! There’s one of my favorite models! I’ve heard so many good things about you, dear.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks.” Ethel felt herself flushing, hot prickles bursting over her flesh. “Um. I just wanted to stop by to ask you… something.”

“Oh. Sure! Come inside. Make yourself at home, Ethel. What’s on your mind?”

“Um…well. It’s. It’s about life drawing class.”

“They enjoy drawing you. You’re an excellent subject.”

“Well… anyway. I was wondering if it would be okay if I stopped.”

Professor Grundy’s smile faltered a little. “Oh. What’s wrong? Has someone been inappropriate?”

Ethel exhaled sharply, and it felt like the pent-up ball of nervousness lodged in her chest dissipated. “Not really. Not like that, but things got a little awkward outside of class with one of the guys that’s in it.”

“Would you mind switching sections, then? I could see if we could arrange a trade with the male model I have in the other drawing period?”

Hope flared in Ethel's chest. “Oh, wow. That wouldn’t be bad at all. You think he’d be willing to switch classes?”

“It happens,” the professor told her, shrugging. “I try to accommodate students’ schedules if they really want to stay enrolled in my art classes but something comes up. Things happen.”

“Okay. I’d be willing to work with that, if you get an answer from him about it.”

“Good.” Ethel was about to rise from her seat, but Professor Grundy’s next question stopped her. “So. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

Heat rose up into Ethel’s cheeks, and she settled reluctantly back into her chair. “It wasn’t a big deal. He’s a nice enough guy, but I just… it’s hard to explain. I kinda made a fool out of myself at a party.”

Professor Grundy bit her lip. “Alcohol?”

“A little.”

“Ah.”

“Switching classes might work out for the best.”

“The campus has a zero tolerance policy for harassment. Just keep that in mind, dear. I don’t want you to feel threatened or disrespected.”

“There wasn’t any harassment. Just a bad case of beer goggles.” Ethel argued.

“Fraternities and sororities are campus organizations. Our staff can’t ignore incidents that happen in their houses when our students are involved. We want every member of our student body to feel safe, no matter what time of day. Okay? Don’t explain something away as ‘beer goggles’ if something untoward happens to you, or if someone was inappropriate with you, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay. I understand, Professor.”

“Good. You made it home all right?”

“Yup. I had an escort home.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stay safe.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Is everyone else in the class decent toward you?”

“Yes. Really, they’re all pretty great.” Ethel thought of Moose, how he would furtively watch her from behind his easel. She never wanted to read too much into the way he looked as he drew her, before. But now… well. This was an entirely different ball of wax.

Ethel and Professor Grundy reviewed the schedule and saw a couple of classes she could model for instead, Beginning Portraiture and Watercolor Basics. “The painting class needs models desperately, particularly if you can hold a pose for at least an hour and a half. They don’t just need to have the pose, they need enough time to really mix washes of color and shadows. So, that would be a few more hours to pad your paycheck.”

“I’ll think about it. Actually, it sounds pretty neat.”

“I’ll tell Verne, the instructor. That’ll make his day. You can stop by his classroom if you want, he’s in Studio 2B after four o’clock.”

“Sweet!”

Professor Grundy rose and showed her to the door, laying her hand gently on Ethel’s back. “Thanks for coming to me. I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy working for my classes, Ethel.”

“No. No, no. This helps. Believe me.”

“Have a good day.”

“You, too, ma’am.” Ethel waved and booked it out of the arts building, feeling her whole body unknot itself as the fresh air hit her in the face, filling her lungs.

“Whew.”

*

It turned out she needn’t have worried.

She went to her next scheduled class period to work, robe packed in her backpack, and the professor nodded to her.

“Professor Grundy told me that you might be switching periods?”

“I’m thinking it might work better with my schedule,” Ethel hedged.

“That’s fine.”

Ethel noticed the empty desk where Stan usually sat. That was odd. Moose looked up from setting up his easel with his drawing pad and charcoal vines. He gave her a brief little wave, then gestured for her to come over.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Stan?” she whispered.

“He dropped the class.”

“Oh, wow… crap. I hope it wasn’t because of me?” She felt an ugly, apprehensive tingle run through her stomach.

“Nah. Don’t worry about it. I ran into him at the library. He mentioned that he swapped this out for American Folklore. Says it was a great choice.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“So, uh… you’re still working… doing this, huh?”

“Yeah. Kind of. For now,” she allowed. “I’d, uh, better go… change.”

Undress.

Because, yeah. She still had to go get naked in front of the guy that she now realized that she liked. That wouldn’t be awkward at all. Ethel went into the back room to stow her backpack, disrobe, then shrug into her wrap. She gave her hair a brief glance, smoothing a few locks, then decided to pin it up to show the line of her neck.

Moose’s mouth went dry when she came out. There were those invitingly long legs of hers again, and he saw the buds of her nipples pressing through the thin, slick fabric of her robe. That was no different than before, except that now, his brain supplemented the sight of her with the memory of how it felt to hold her, to have that lithe, soft body pressed against him from head to toe. To kiss that sleepy mouth and feel her arms twine around him, the scant weight of her thigh pinning him to the mattress.

And there it was, an inconvenient, totally unwelcome boner.

“Great,” he huffed under his breath.

As if on cue, Ethel dropped her robe beside the low dais. She took up her first pose, and Moose cursed himself for not planning how to deal with this… problem.

Draw. He had to draw. He had to be a functioning adult with more brain cells than hormones and create a reasonable image of the creature before him, all long limbs and high cheekbones, with those small breasts pouting at him, and yeah… his dick wasn’t listening to his demands that it just calm down, already.

His hand shook when he picked up the charcoal, making those first few rough, faltering lines. Ethel spared him, looking toward a different corner of the room, and that allowed Moose to look his fill of her. It helped that Stan wasn’t there, at least. It would have been weird. Beyond weird. And he remembered back to Stan’s remarks about Ethel’s body that first week of class, and in hindsight, Moose wished he could have kicked his ass. It seemed like a sacrilege for him to talk about her like that, especially now that Moose saw her in a different light. Now that he’d really talked to her. Listened to her. Gotten to know her quirks and her self-deprecating, sharp humor.

It was a long, torturous hour. The more he worked on the drawing, the better acquainted his hands grew with all of Ethel’s scant curves, angles, and flat planes, the hollows of her cheeks and gauntness of her collarbones and ribcage. Her stomach was so flat, just short of being concave, and those breasts were distracting him. The soft light from the head lamp shone down on her glossy black hair, turning it reflective and bright. Moose remembered kissing her smile, how petal-soft those lips felt, sharing his breath. Her touch had been so hesitant at first, then greedy. Those long, slender hands ran through his hair, mapping out the span of his back-

Moose had to snap himself out of the fantasy before he drifted completely off. He rubbed his nape and scolded himself.

“Everything okay, Marmaduke?”

“Yeah. Yup. It’s all good.”

“You’re enjoying today’s assignment,” he remarked. “Nice work so far. Great attention to the proportions and contours today. A little more foreshortening on that leg would be nice, but this is one of your better sketches.”

“Oh. Uh, wow. Thanks.”

“Of course.” The professor roamed the studio, observing and lending feedback on angles and perspectives as he glanced at each easel. Moose focused on Ethel’s profile, almost wishing down that she would face him. The irregularity of her nose, the long, narrow jawline, those strong, arched brows, were all compelling, making her memorable instead of just pretty. She wasn’t wearing makeup.

He remembered back to their conversation in her dorm. Was she jealous of Midge? He hoped not. Midge Klump was a beautiful, sexy girl. Yes, she was. She’d definitely caught his eye as a freshman, and she only got prettier every year, but…

Everyone wanted Midge. It was intimidating, and it knocked him off-balance, and every time he saw someone flirting with Midge, or when she flirted back, it just brought back all of the old insecurities. Wondering if he was good enough. Smart enough. Funny enough. Talented enough. Interesting enough. Cute enough (her word, not his). Did she consider someone like Reggie Mantle or Archie Andrews to be more in her league? Everybody wanted her. Not just anyone wanted him.

So. It felt good to be kissed by someone who did. It satisfied all of his senses and quieted down all of the mean voices in his head when Ethel moaned his name in that breathy voice, when she clung to him. Ambrose was right. There was nothing wrong with admitting that he liked Ethel Muggs. A lot.

His feelings were plain on his face.

Ethel noticed that when the professor called time for a break. She got up and retrieved her robe, and she saw Moose’s eyes. Wow.

Okay. Okay.

He was rapt, and that look…oh, good grief. That look, so hungry and full of longing. Her hands fumbled with the tie of her robe, suddenly not wanting to work. She hesitated for a moment, then realized that there were other people in the room. She hurried, then, to cover herself before people started to stare… well, stare beyond the usual stares.

It was all just so weird.

“Gads, I just can’t,” she murmured to herself.

“Do you get stiff up there?” one of the older re-entry students asked her.

“Yeah. Feels good to stretch when I’m done.”

“We’re so happy to have you here. You’re so much fun to draw.” Ethel beamed under the praise.

“Thanks.”

“You’re just so interesting to look at!”

Ethel tried not to be hurt that this was the case; she didn’t have any illusions that people thought she was pretty.

But Moose’s eyes told her a different story entirely. She felt them following her around the room as she visited the artists and enjoyed their sketches, each one an homage to her uniqueness.

*

Ambrose keyed his way into their dorm room and found his roommate flat on his back, tossing a baseball up into the air and catching it. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’s up? You’re in a mood. This is you in a mood.”

“This is me, not having a clue. No clue.”

“About…?”

“Ethel.”

“Really?” Ambrose perked up. He shucked his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. “Something new developed between you two?”

“You could say that.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with you not coming back home the other night?” Ambrose asked carefully.

“It’s not what you think, but no, I didn’t come home. I was with Ethel, but nothing happened. Nothing big, anyway.”

“But you caught up to her after the party?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to make sure she got home okay.”

“Good,” Ambrose admitted. “I was worried about her. She had a lot to drink. I was hoping she wasn’t gonna hook up with that Stan guy. He wasn’t the worst, but…”

“He’s a tool,” Moose finished for him.

“Eh. Yeah. I think that’s it. That’s a good way of putting it. ‘Tool’ fits.”

“But she got home?”

“Yeah. He walked her home, so I didn’t have to punch his teeth in.”

“Uh, Moose. That’s not how we deal with our feelings.”

“I know,” Moose told him, continuing to toss the ball in an unbroken rhythm.

“That’s how we get hauled off by campus security.”

“I know.”

“Okay. And how we get expelled?”

“I know that.”

“Okay. Just checking.” Ambrose sat down at his desk and powered on his laptop. “So, what next? Are you two a thing?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Are you gonna do anything about it?”

“Dude, I don’t know yet.”

“Couldn’t hurt to figure that out.”

“Yeah, well.”

“No. Figure it out. She likes you, right?”

Moose fumbled his next catch, and the ball thunked him in the forehead, making him curse. Ambrose snickered. “Nice.”

“Sure. Laugh at my pain.”

“Ask her out. Chat her up. See where things go.”

“I don’t want her to think… I don’t want it to get weird.”

“What’s weird about a cute girl wanting to hang out with you? One that you get to see in her birthday suit already, anyway?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Moose scolded gently.

“Sorry. I’m not talking smack, man. I’m jealous. She looked nice in that dress. Almost makes me want to take Life Art next semester…”

His voice broke off into a laugh when Moose winged the baseball at his head. He ducked successfully. “I’m just sayin’.”

“Asshole.” But Moose was smirking. Yeah. Okay.

Asking Ethel out wasn’t a bad idea at all.

*

Melody was fiddling with her nails, applying a sparkly silver top coat and some little decals when Ethel came back to their room. “Hey!”

“Hey.”

“Moose stopped by a little bit ago.”

Ethel’s cheeks flamed. “Really?”

“He sure did,” Melody sang. “He was all kinds of disappointed that he missed you.”

“God,” Ethel groaned. She flopped onto her cot and tipped over onto her back, exaggerating torture. “Ugh. Why, Lord? Why is everything so jacked up?”

“What’s the matter?”

“I asked my professor to switch me into a different class so I wouldn’t have to run into Stan anymore,” Ethel said. “But he dropped the class, anyway.”

“It won’t be that bad if you run into him again, anyway. Bet he’s already forgotten about trying to pick up on you by now, to be honest. Guys like Stan move on pretty quickly,” Melody pointed out. Ethel remembered dimly how he’d told her about being on the rebound from his ex, anyway, after he’d kissed her. Melody’s claim might not be too far off the mark.

“Yeah. Bet you’re right.”

“Oh, I know I am.” Melody sounded confident, and Ethel admitted to herself that boys were more Melody’s area of expertise than hers. Ethel would pummel anyone who called her roommate slow, because there were just certain things that she knew.

“So, Moose stopped by.”

“He left you something.”

“What was it?”

“Check out your desk.” Ethel sat up and spied the small white envelope with her first initial scrawled on the front. “Oh. Hey.”

“Open it!” Melody told her eagerly, waving her on with one manicured hand. Ethel fumbled with the seal, eventually ripping it open. She reached in and pulled out a small, folded scrap of paper and two tickets.

“Star Trek?”

“He’s taking you to see it?” Melody giggled. “That’s cute. Do you even like that?”

“I love Star Trek!”

“Awesome!”

“I know. Wow…” Ethel’s voice trailed off as she opened the note.

Hope you don’t mind the late showing. The lines are shorter and we can park easier. If you wanna go. – M.

“He’s so funny. This is so cute.”

“He’s such a teddy bear,” Melody told her. “But, Ethel… oh, my God. He snores so loud. Listening to the two of you was like dueling buzzsaws.”

“Oh, shut UP.” Ethel took umbrage, sticking out her tongue. But she hugged the tickets and note to her chest.

Okay.

Okay.
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Elective