Word count: 100
Dean's sitting for a portrait. Don't know why, he just is. Outsider POV.
Disclaimer: I don't own him, however hard I wish.
Putting graphite to the paper, I carefully plot the outline of a softly prominent cheekbone, ghosting over a strong jawline, working down to mark the delicate cleft in his chin.
Faint crows feet play around his eyes, but they lend character, not age; and I'm mesmerised by the myriad shades of green and gold swirling in that sublime gaze. They'll test my pallette to the limit.
A masque of perfect symmetry composed of strong, bold lines but tempered by a gentle beauty.
It's an artist's job to create a masterpiece.
A much easier job when nature has done the hard work already.