Fic: Too Good to Be True, 1A/?, WIP
Oh, boy. First foray into posting fic online. Hopefully all the formatting comes out okay.
Title: Too Good to Be True (1/?), WIP
Author: cutloosemcgoose (Stasia)
Rating: PG as of now (no sex, minor language)
Spoilers: None for the series
Warnings: Some language ('bitch')
Word Count: 1644 for this section
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Supernatural, 10 Things I Hate About You, or Shakespeare. I don't even own a car. I'm making no profit off of this and am here just to play in someone else's sandbox.
Summary: Gabriel Milton is new to Lawrence High, but he's already got his eye on Sam Winchester. Unfortunately, Sam's not going anywhere until his antisocial brother, Dean, starts dating. Gabriel needs a miracle, but he might have to settle for the mysterious Castiel Novak as the solution to his problems.
Author's Notes: This is a High School AU/Crossover of "Supernatural" and "10 Things I Hate About You." You don't need to be familiar with "10 Things I Hate About You" (or its source material, Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew"). Actually, you don't need to be familiar with anything for this, but you may not enjoy it if you don't, at least, know "Supernatural." Several lines are taken from the movie. It's also a work-in-progress.
A million thanks to heathyr_iltp for the original idea (and the phrase "snarky man bitch") and to everyone who commented on the teaser with their encouragement. Comments and criticism are very welcome. Hope you all enjoy it.
Nine schools in ten years, and Gabriel Milton should be used to this by now. It doesn’t get easier but, then again, it’s not exactly like it was hard to begin with.
His dad is off, being in charge of the whole world or something, which leaves Gabriel to be shuffled from one mind-numbingly boring high school to another, whenever the nannies feel like it. Nothing ever changes, from one town to the next-just the pranks that Gabriel chooses to play on his selfish, sanctimonious, self-involved fellow classmates. He’s thinking about turning it into a game; just what percentage of the graduating class can he subtlety torture before upper management catches on? He’s still working on the details, but he thinks involving jello is a good first step.
“Mr. Milton,” the woman behind the desk says, interrupting his fantasies. The nameplate in front of her reads, “Rebecca Rosen. Secretary/Guidance Counselor.” Apparently, Lawrence High is small enough that one person can do both. Gabriel gives himself a month.
“Welcome to Kansas. It says here that you’re transferring from Muncie, Indiana?”
“Bad break-up, you know how it is,” Gabriel says, with an award-winning smile. Ms. Rosen doesn’t laugh.
“And before that, Wellington, Broward, and Springfield. You’ve certainly gotten around.”
“In more ways than one, sister.” Now she’s outright glaring. Shit, Gabriel clearly underestimated the effect of his charm. Maybe she’s a lesbian.
“Funny.” She grabs a stack of papers from on top of the desk. “Class schedule, map, list of relevant locations. There’s a student outside waiting to show you around.” Gabriel just sits there, waiting for her to say something else, but she doesn’t, and it quickly deteriorates into an awkward staring contest.
“Scoot!” Ms. Rosen says, flapping one hand at him. “I’ve got a waiting room full of delinquents to see and a J2 Big Bang fic to write. Out!” she adds, when Gabriel continues sitting, somewhat flabbergasted.
He grabs his bag and leaves, too startled (especially by that Bang thing, what the hell is that?) to even get a good one-liner off. It looks like Lawrence High might be a little different, after all.
Right outside the office, some kid dressed all in black is slouched against the wall, tapping away rapidly at a cell phone. “Gabriel Milton, I presume?” the guy says, not even looking up from his texts. He’s got a British accent which, combined with the ensemble, gives him a smarmy, James Bond vibe. “Crowley, I’ve been assigned as your high school liaison for the foreseeable future.”
“Lucky me,” Gabriel says, “Look, pal, this isn’t exactly my first time at the rodeo, so spare me the speeches. I’m pretty sure I can find a bathroom on my own.”
“Only ‘pretty sure’? Bit pathetic for a seventeen-year old who’s been to, what, nine schools in the last ten years?”
Gabriel fees himself flush. “How the hell did you know that?”
Crowley finally looks up from the phone, smirking at Gabe as he slips it into his pocket. “Information is power. I’m not one for hand-holding, but I feel like our acquaintance could be mutually beneficial.”
“Is this the part where you tell it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”
“You don’t look the type to appreciate sweet-talking, so no.”
In all the schools he’s been to-all the towns, really-Gabriel’s never really found someone that he can go toe-to-toe with. He kind of likes it. And, hell, it’s not like he has anything to lose. A hundred bucks says he’s yanked from Lawrence before he even begins striking fear into the hearts of the general population.
“Deal,” Gabriel says. “What do you have for me?”
Crowley (no first name necessary or even offered) takes Gabriel on a tour of the school. He basically glosses over everything (“classrooms, bathrooms, principal, gym”) before leading Gabriel to the courtyard, the ‘nexus of all human activity at this school.’
“Jocks,” he says, pointing to where a bunch of buff guys are tossing a football around, “cheerleaders; art-house, foreign films geeks; smokers; smokers; Dungeons and Dragons nerds; eco-friendly tree-huggers; and future CEOs of America.” As they pass by the last group, all decked out in variations of ‘business casual,’ the students all turns their backs to Crowley. A few even sneer.
“What’s their problem?”
“Sodding idiots, the lot of them,” Crowley says, bitterly. “A week ago, I was their king.”
“They threw you out? Wow, shocker.” He hopes the sarcasm is evident.
From the look Crowley’s giving him, message: received. “Hostile takeover, in fact. Don’t worry, they’ll pay.”
Gabriel starts mentally reviewing his repertoire, wondering which of his greatest hits will have the most impact on the disloyal schmucks. He’s about to suggest planting suspicious substances (always a favorite) when he catches sight of-no joke-one of the most gorgeous guys he’s ever laid eyes on; and Gabriel grew up in Los Angeles, so that’s saying something. A heavenly choir doesn’t start playing in the background, but Gabe recognized that guy as an unearthly specimen, anyway.
Crowley’s already walking away when Gabriel grabs his arm and drags him back. “Who’s that?”
Crowley squints irritably at the crowd. “Who? Be more specific, Dopey.”
Gabriel scowls. There’s practically a spotlight following the leggy brunet around. “Tall, gorgeous, three o’clock.”
Crowley searches the students, then smirks. “Oh, that moose? Sam Winchester, but don’t get any ideas.”
Sam Winchester. Gabriel indulges in some serious staring, because, come on. The guy is tall, lanky, and has a smile that could probably light up a room. Plus, those shoulders. The fact that he’s got several inches on Gabriel only adds to the appeal. So he likes tall guys. So sue him.
Crowley’s blathering on in the background, but Gabriel can’t stop staring as Sam laughs at the guy next to him, a blond that doesn’t even begin to compare. His legs start moving towards the other boy, with no conscious decision on his part, and Crowley has to race to catch up with him.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said? Look, I’ll admit he’s easy on the eyes-”
“It’s not just that,” Gabriel says, trying to move close enough to eavesdrop on Sam’s conversation.
“Yes, he’s beautiful and deep, I’m sure,” Crowley deadpans.
Another inch, and-
“And then I said, that debate performance was completely underwhelming. I mean, who chooses moral high ground to argue with?”
The blond nods. “I know. Hey, Sam, I know you can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but do you think you can ever just be whelmed?”
Sam screws up his face a little. “I think you can in Europe.”
The two move out of earshot. Okay, so it wasn’t the most scintillating conversation Gabriel’s ever heard, but they’re in high school, it’s not like he expected a diatribe against the unfairness of corporate law.
“Seriously. Mate. Let this one go.”
“There’s more to him than you think,” Gabe insists, still watching as Sam exchanges high-fives with a bunch of the Birkenstock crowd. “Maybe he’s not the brightest bulb, but look at that smile. You’re missing it, but there’s something else there.”
Crowley snorts. “Whatever you say, lover boy. You still haven’t a snowball’s chance. Father’s very uptight, and the Winchesters don’t date.”
“I’ll figure something out.” He can’t stop staring. There’s something about Sam Winchester: the way he’s so comfortable in that oversized body (man, that body) of his; or maybe the way he smiles at everyone he passes; or the way they all stare adoringly at him. It’s been a while since Gabriel’s been interested enough in anyone to try, and he wants so much more than that, here.
“If you’re really that confident,” Crowley butts in, “I’ll give you the heads up. He’s looking for a French tutor.”
A game plan is rapidly beginning to form. “The language of love, perfect!”
“Fluent, are we?”
“Nope,” Gabe says, grinning. “Don’t know a word except ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi?’”
“Perfect,” Crowley says. “Good luck charming Gigantor with that one.”
Their conversation is interrupted when someone slams on their horn, causing both boys to jump a foot in the air. Some guy sticks his head out the window of a classic car, looking murderous.
“Hey, idiots! Pull your heads out of your asses and get out of my way!” he yells at them. Besides him, a blonde girl is laughing hysterically, probably at the way Gabriel is clinging to-holding onto, he mentally corrects-Crowley. They scramble out of the way as the guy guns his engine and speeds away.
“Holy crap, what’s his problem?” Gabriel asks. He blames his jumpiness on the adrenaline rush.
“That, Farquad, was your boyfriend’s older brother. You certainly drew the short straw when it comes to in-laws.”
“That was Sam’s brother?”
“The one and only. Dean Winchester. Also known as ‘the snarky man bitch of Lawrence High,’ ‘that heinous bitch,’ and my personal favorite, ‘the Ice Queen.’ I would advise you to avoid his wrath at all costs.”
Gabriel is still trying to reconcile sunny, smiling Sam with…that guy. “How bad can he be?”
“Let’s see, today is Tuesday? I’ll have to introduce you to Gordon Walker, his testicle retrieval surgery was this morning.”
Gabriel’s jaw doesn’t drop. Much. “Are you saying-?”
Crowley shrugs. “Winchester senior still maintains that Walker kicked himself in the balls. Gordon has, wisely, chosen not to comment.”
Well, let it never be said that Gabriel Milton turns down a challenge. “That’s…cool,” he says, going for nonchalant. Judging by Crowley’s expression, he doesn’t quite get there.
“Like I said, neither of the Winchesters date. Dean, for obvious reasons. Sam, because his father is, shall we say, overprotective. So, good luck with that.”
“Trust me,” Gabriel says, with a bravado he’s not entirely feeling at the moment, “luck is one thing I do not need when it comes to love.”
“We’ll see about that,” Crowley says.
Link to the second half of chapter 1!
http://cutloosemcgoose.livejournal.com/6006.html#cutid1
Title: Too Good to Be True (1/?), WIP
Author: cutloosemcgoose (Stasia)
Rating: PG as of now (no sex, minor language)
Spoilers: None for the series
Warnings: Some language ('bitch')
Word Count: 1644 for this section
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Supernatural, 10 Things I Hate About You, or Shakespeare. I don't even own a car. I'm making no profit off of this and am here just to play in someone else's sandbox.
Summary: Gabriel Milton is new to Lawrence High, but he's already got his eye on Sam Winchester. Unfortunately, Sam's not going anywhere until his antisocial brother, Dean, starts dating. Gabriel needs a miracle, but he might have to settle for the mysterious Castiel Novak as the solution to his problems.
Author's Notes: This is a High School AU/Crossover of "Supernatural" and "10 Things I Hate About You." You don't need to be familiar with "10 Things I Hate About You" (or its source material, Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew"). Actually, you don't need to be familiar with anything for this, but you may not enjoy it if you don't, at least, know "Supernatural." Several lines are taken from the movie. It's also a work-in-progress.
A million thanks to heathyr_iltp for the original idea (and the phrase "snarky man bitch") and to everyone who commented on the teaser with their encouragement. Comments and criticism are very welcome. Hope you all enjoy it.
Nine schools in ten years, and Gabriel Milton should be used to this by now. It doesn’t get easier but, then again, it’s not exactly like it was hard to begin with.
His dad is off, being in charge of the whole world or something, which leaves Gabriel to be shuffled from one mind-numbingly boring high school to another, whenever the nannies feel like it. Nothing ever changes, from one town to the next-just the pranks that Gabriel chooses to play on his selfish, sanctimonious, self-involved fellow classmates. He’s thinking about turning it into a game; just what percentage of the graduating class can he subtlety torture before upper management catches on? He’s still working on the details, but he thinks involving jello is a good first step.
“Mr. Milton,” the woman behind the desk says, interrupting his fantasies. The nameplate in front of her reads, “Rebecca Rosen. Secretary/Guidance Counselor.” Apparently, Lawrence High is small enough that one person can do both. Gabriel gives himself a month.
“Welcome to Kansas. It says here that you’re transferring from Muncie, Indiana?”
“Bad break-up, you know how it is,” Gabriel says, with an award-winning smile. Ms. Rosen doesn’t laugh.
“And before that, Wellington, Broward, and Springfield. You’ve certainly gotten around.”
“In more ways than one, sister.” Now she’s outright glaring. Shit, Gabriel clearly underestimated the effect of his charm. Maybe she’s a lesbian.
“Funny.” She grabs a stack of papers from on top of the desk. “Class schedule, map, list of relevant locations. There’s a student outside waiting to show you around.” Gabriel just sits there, waiting for her to say something else, but she doesn’t, and it quickly deteriorates into an awkward staring contest.
“Scoot!” Ms. Rosen says, flapping one hand at him. “I’ve got a waiting room full of delinquents to see and a J2 Big Bang fic to write. Out!” she adds, when Gabriel continues sitting, somewhat flabbergasted.
He grabs his bag and leaves, too startled (especially by that Bang thing, what the hell is that?) to even get a good one-liner off. It looks like Lawrence High might be a little different, after all.
Right outside the office, some kid dressed all in black is slouched against the wall, tapping away rapidly at a cell phone. “Gabriel Milton, I presume?” the guy says, not even looking up from his texts. He’s got a British accent which, combined with the ensemble, gives him a smarmy, James Bond vibe. “Crowley, I’ve been assigned as your high school liaison for the foreseeable future.”
“Lucky me,” Gabriel says, “Look, pal, this isn’t exactly my first time at the rodeo, so spare me the speeches. I’m pretty sure I can find a bathroom on my own.”
“Only ‘pretty sure’? Bit pathetic for a seventeen-year old who’s been to, what, nine schools in the last ten years?”
Gabriel fees himself flush. “How the hell did you know that?”
Crowley finally looks up from the phone, smirking at Gabe as he slips it into his pocket. “Information is power. I’m not one for hand-holding, but I feel like our acquaintance could be mutually beneficial.”
“Is this the part where you tell it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”
“You don’t look the type to appreciate sweet-talking, so no.”
In all the schools he’s been to-all the towns, really-Gabriel’s never really found someone that he can go toe-to-toe with. He kind of likes it. And, hell, it’s not like he has anything to lose. A hundred bucks says he’s yanked from Lawrence before he even begins striking fear into the hearts of the general population.
“Deal,” Gabriel says. “What do you have for me?”
Crowley (no first name necessary or even offered) takes Gabriel on a tour of the school. He basically glosses over everything (“classrooms, bathrooms, principal, gym”) before leading Gabriel to the courtyard, the ‘nexus of all human activity at this school.’
“Jocks,” he says, pointing to where a bunch of buff guys are tossing a football around, “cheerleaders; art-house, foreign films geeks; smokers; smokers; Dungeons and Dragons nerds; eco-friendly tree-huggers; and future CEOs of America.” As they pass by the last group, all decked out in variations of ‘business casual,’ the students all turns their backs to Crowley. A few even sneer.
“What’s their problem?”
“Sodding idiots, the lot of them,” Crowley says, bitterly. “A week ago, I was their king.”
“They threw you out? Wow, shocker.” He hopes the sarcasm is evident.
From the look Crowley’s giving him, message: received. “Hostile takeover, in fact. Don’t worry, they’ll pay.”
Gabriel starts mentally reviewing his repertoire, wondering which of his greatest hits will have the most impact on the disloyal schmucks. He’s about to suggest planting suspicious substances (always a favorite) when he catches sight of-no joke-one of the most gorgeous guys he’s ever laid eyes on; and Gabriel grew up in Los Angeles, so that’s saying something. A heavenly choir doesn’t start playing in the background, but Gabe recognized that guy as an unearthly specimen, anyway.
Crowley’s already walking away when Gabriel grabs his arm and drags him back. “Who’s that?”
Crowley squints irritably at the crowd. “Who? Be more specific, Dopey.”
Gabriel scowls. There’s practically a spotlight following the leggy brunet around. “Tall, gorgeous, three o’clock.”
Crowley searches the students, then smirks. “Oh, that moose? Sam Winchester, but don’t get any ideas.”
Sam Winchester. Gabriel indulges in some serious staring, because, come on. The guy is tall, lanky, and has a smile that could probably light up a room. Plus, those shoulders. The fact that he’s got several inches on Gabriel only adds to the appeal. So he likes tall guys. So sue him.
Crowley’s blathering on in the background, but Gabriel can’t stop staring as Sam laughs at the guy next to him, a blond that doesn’t even begin to compare. His legs start moving towards the other boy, with no conscious decision on his part, and Crowley has to race to catch up with him.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said? Look, I’ll admit he’s easy on the eyes-”
“It’s not just that,” Gabriel says, trying to move close enough to eavesdrop on Sam’s conversation.
“Yes, he’s beautiful and deep, I’m sure,” Crowley deadpans.
Another inch, and-
“And then I said, that debate performance was completely underwhelming. I mean, who chooses moral high ground to argue with?”
The blond nods. “I know. Hey, Sam, I know you can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but do you think you can ever just be whelmed?”
Sam screws up his face a little. “I think you can in Europe.”
The two move out of earshot. Okay, so it wasn’t the most scintillating conversation Gabriel’s ever heard, but they’re in high school, it’s not like he expected a diatribe against the unfairness of corporate law.
“Seriously. Mate. Let this one go.”
“There’s more to him than you think,” Gabe insists, still watching as Sam exchanges high-fives with a bunch of the Birkenstock crowd. “Maybe he’s not the brightest bulb, but look at that smile. You’re missing it, but there’s something else there.”
Crowley snorts. “Whatever you say, lover boy. You still haven’t a snowball’s chance. Father’s very uptight, and the Winchesters don’t date.”
“I’ll figure something out.” He can’t stop staring. There’s something about Sam Winchester: the way he’s so comfortable in that oversized body (man, that body) of his; or maybe the way he smiles at everyone he passes; or the way they all stare adoringly at him. It’s been a while since Gabriel’s been interested enough in anyone to try, and he wants so much more than that, here.
“If you’re really that confident,” Crowley butts in, “I’ll give you the heads up. He’s looking for a French tutor.”
A game plan is rapidly beginning to form. “The language of love, perfect!”
“Fluent, are we?”
“Nope,” Gabe says, grinning. “Don’t know a word except ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi?’”
“Perfect,” Crowley says. “Good luck charming Gigantor with that one.”
Their conversation is interrupted when someone slams on their horn, causing both boys to jump a foot in the air. Some guy sticks his head out the window of a classic car, looking murderous.
“Hey, idiots! Pull your heads out of your asses and get out of my way!” he yells at them. Besides him, a blonde girl is laughing hysterically, probably at the way Gabriel is clinging to-holding onto, he mentally corrects-Crowley. They scramble out of the way as the guy guns his engine and speeds away.
“Holy crap, what’s his problem?” Gabriel asks. He blames his jumpiness on the adrenaline rush.
“That, Farquad, was your boyfriend’s older brother. You certainly drew the short straw when it comes to in-laws.”
“That was Sam’s brother?”
“The one and only. Dean Winchester. Also known as ‘the snarky man bitch of Lawrence High,’ ‘that heinous bitch,’ and my personal favorite, ‘the Ice Queen.’ I would advise you to avoid his wrath at all costs.”
Gabriel is still trying to reconcile sunny, smiling Sam with…that guy. “How bad can he be?”
“Let’s see, today is Tuesday? I’ll have to introduce you to Gordon Walker, his testicle retrieval surgery was this morning.”
Gabriel’s jaw doesn’t drop. Much. “Are you saying-?”
Crowley shrugs. “Winchester senior still maintains that Walker kicked himself in the balls. Gordon has, wisely, chosen not to comment.”
Well, let it never be said that Gabriel Milton turns down a challenge. “That’s…cool,” he says, going for nonchalant. Judging by Crowley’s expression, he doesn’t quite get there.
“Like I said, neither of the Winchesters date. Dean, for obvious reasons. Sam, because his father is, shall we say, overprotective. So, good luck with that.”
“Trust me,” Gabriel says, with a bravado he’s not entirely feeling at the moment, “luck is one thing I do not need when it comes to love.”
“We’ll see about that,” Crowley says.
Link to the second half of chapter 1!
http://cutloosemcgoose.livejournal.com/6006.html#cutid1