SPN/RPS Fic: Only Now Do I Believe // Sam/Chris Kane // PG-13
Title: Only Now Do I Believe
Pairing: Sam/Chris Kane
Rating: PG-13
Words: 900-ish, unbeta'd
Warnings: zombie-esque fic, real-life event related (H1N1)
Disclaimer: If I owned it I'd never share it. I'm greedy that way.
Summary: Sam told him not to worry about it when he jokingly (but not really) brought it up.
A/N: This is the first in my Request a Drabble series. I'm hoping to work on the others tonight, or at least one. As you can see, this is longer than a drabble, but I can't guarantee the others will be this long. Anyway. gwentastic has a hard on for Sam/Chris (Chris in general) so, of course, she requested that. Then she mentioned later that next time she would ask for something with zombies. So I ran with it. I've written more Sam/Chris stuff in the past but I've never posted it. I should get around to that someday, I suppose.
When people started calling the swine flu Captain Trips Chris had a hard time placing it at first. He read 'The Stand' back in high school and remembered it being balls long, most of all.
Sam told him not to worry about it when he jokingly (but not really) brought it up. When Sam said stuff like that Chris listened. For some reason Chris believed in his gut that Sam knew what he was talking about.
It still didn't assuage his worries though. When the flu got worse and schools, shopping malls and businesses started to close down to try and stop the spread it got more worrisome. The campus closed down and became a ghost town. Sam said he didn't have anywhere to go because his family was in the middle of a move or something, Chris wasn't totally sure because Sam was kind of vague about it.
Chris offered to let Sam stay with him but he said he didn't want to cramp Chris' style and that it would be easier for him to get a jump on his courses before everyone else came back. Chris didn't say it but he wasn't sure Sam would be finishing out the semester.
It was a Monday morning when the announcement came through on the radio during Chris' morning drive for coffee. Reports were sketchy but people were saying--saying the craziest things. That others were changing, turning into violent people. Family members, friends, co-workers--all people who were infected, the reports said. Doctors were scoffing but as the morning wore on they became unsure, and eventually advised the public to stay indoors and away from the infected. To find safe haven if they could or lock themselves where they thought they could hide. Get weapons. Destroy the infected.
Aim for the head.
The message from Sam on his answering machine worried him most of all, left when Chris was out to get coffee. It was a little garbled, static on the line. Something about staying safe and he'd see him soon. Stay inside. Don't answer the door unless sit was him. Don't. Answer. The. Door. Sam's voice was firm and assured, even through the poor reception.
Chris checked the calendar more than once to see the date. April Fools was the month before, right? But he saw it with his own eyes, too. People on the streets being erratic. Other's running around warily, checking behind them as they brandished baseball bats, golf clubs, guns, whatever they could find.
He tried to call Sam, to see if he was okay, but the phone lines were jammed by noon. He even tried to dial 9-1-1 and couldn't get through. They were well and truly fucked.
He grabbed a couple bags of his things. Some clothes, his guitar, his computer, a stash of money he kept hidden in case he got robbed, a couple books he really liked and didn't think if he left them he'd ever see again. He was heading out the door when he changed his mind, went back to the kitchen and grabbed the six-pack of beer from the fridge. He might need it.
The drive to Sam's dorm took longer than he expected. Maybe he should have listened to Sam's message. There were abandoned cars in the road now and a couple times he had to dodge streets with too many people on them. His anxiety level rose with every block because the people he was close enough to look at, to really see... they weren't recognizable as people anymore.
Sam's dorm was locked down tight and when he tried to use the call box it wasn't working properly. He had to check around the building stealthily until he found a window on the ground floor he could break into without creating too much noise or notice.
He made his way to the third floor slowly. All the lights were out except for the emergency lights which made it hard to see if there was something lurking in the stairwells or halls ahead of him. When he got to Sam's door he wished he'd thought to grab his baseball bat. Just in case.
He took a breath and knocked lightly on Sam's door, wondering if he wanted him to still be there. If he answered and the wasn't--if Sam was--
The door flew open and hit the wall. revealing Sam standing on the other side and aiming a shotgun at Chris' head. Chris felt all the colour drain from his face as he stared down the barrel of the gun.
"Chris?" Sam asked.
"Yeah?" he replied hoarsly.
"Get in here." Chris complied and Sam shut the door behind them tightly, setting a couple extra locks he didn't remember being there the last time he was in Sam's dorm room. The whole place looked different. There was a mattress against the window, shutting out any light. Sam's desk, once covered in neat piles of books and papers, was now covered by different guns and ammunition. A hot plate and a small supply of canned goods sat in the corner of the room. By Sam's bed was a duffle, already packed from the looks of it, and ready to go.
Chris looked around, then sank down on the bed slowly. Sam stared at him as if waiting for him to freak out, but it never came.
"All right," Chris finally said, his voice firm. "You seem to have all the answers. Tell me what I need to know."
Pairing: Sam/Chris Kane
Rating: PG-13
Words: 900-ish, unbeta'd
Warnings: zombie-esque fic, real-life event related (H1N1)
Disclaimer: If I owned it I'd never share it. I'm greedy that way.
Summary: Sam told him not to worry about it when he jokingly (but not really) brought it up.
A/N: This is the first in my Request a Drabble series. I'm hoping to work on the others tonight, or at least one. As you can see, this is longer than a drabble, but I can't guarantee the others will be this long. Anyway. gwentastic has a hard on for Sam/Chris (Chris in general) so, of course, she requested that. Then she mentioned later that next time she would ask for something with zombies. So I ran with it. I've written more Sam/Chris stuff in the past but I've never posted it. I should get around to that someday, I suppose.
When people started calling the swine flu Captain Trips Chris had a hard time placing it at first. He read 'The Stand' back in high school and remembered it being balls long, most of all.
Sam told him not to worry about it when he jokingly (but not really) brought it up. When Sam said stuff like that Chris listened. For some reason Chris believed in his gut that Sam knew what he was talking about.
It still didn't assuage his worries though. When the flu got worse and schools, shopping malls and businesses started to close down to try and stop the spread it got more worrisome. The campus closed down and became a ghost town. Sam said he didn't have anywhere to go because his family was in the middle of a move or something, Chris wasn't totally sure because Sam was kind of vague about it.
Chris offered to let Sam stay with him but he said he didn't want to cramp Chris' style and that it would be easier for him to get a jump on his courses before everyone else came back. Chris didn't say it but he wasn't sure Sam would be finishing out the semester.
It was a Monday morning when the announcement came through on the radio during Chris' morning drive for coffee. Reports were sketchy but people were saying--saying the craziest things. That others were changing, turning into violent people. Family members, friends, co-workers--all people who were infected, the reports said. Doctors were scoffing but as the morning wore on they became unsure, and eventually advised the public to stay indoors and away from the infected. To find safe haven if they could or lock themselves where they thought they could hide. Get weapons. Destroy the infected.
Aim for the head.
The message from Sam on his answering machine worried him most of all, left when Chris was out to get coffee. It was a little garbled, static on the line. Something about staying safe and he'd see him soon. Stay inside. Don't answer the door unless sit was him. Don't. Answer. The. Door. Sam's voice was firm and assured, even through the poor reception.
Chris checked the calendar more than once to see the date. April Fools was the month before, right? But he saw it with his own eyes, too. People on the streets being erratic. Other's running around warily, checking behind them as they brandished baseball bats, golf clubs, guns, whatever they could find.
He tried to call Sam, to see if he was okay, but the phone lines were jammed by noon. He even tried to dial 9-1-1 and couldn't get through. They were well and truly fucked.
He grabbed a couple bags of his things. Some clothes, his guitar, his computer, a stash of money he kept hidden in case he got robbed, a couple books he really liked and didn't think if he left them he'd ever see again. He was heading out the door when he changed his mind, went back to the kitchen and grabbed the six-pack of beer from the fridge. He might need it.
The drive to Sam's dorm took longer than he expected. Maybe he should have listened to Sam's message. There were abandoned cars in the road now and a couple times he had to dodge streets with too many people on them. His anxiety level rose with every block because the people he was close enough to look at, to really see... they weren't recognizable as people anymore.
Sam's dorm was locked down tight and when he tried to use the call box it wasn't working properly. He had to check around the building stealthily until he found a window on the ground floor he could break into without creating too much noise or notice.
He made his way to the third floor slowly. All the lights were out except for the emergency lights which made it hard to see if there was something lurking in the stairwells or halls ahead of him. When he got to Sam's door he wished he'd thought to grab his baseball bat. Just in case.
He took a breath and knocked lightly on Sam's door, wondering if he wanted him to still be there. If he answered and the wasn't--if Sam was--
The door flew open and hit the wall. revealing Sam standing on the other side and aiming a shotgun at Chris' head. Chris felt all the colour drain from his face as he stared down the barrel of the gun.
"Chris?" Sam asked.
"Yeah?" he replied hoarsly.
"Get in here." Chris complied and Sam shut the door behind them tightly, setting a couple extra locks he didn't remember being there the last time he was in Sam's dorm room. The whole place looked different. There was a mattress against the window, shutting out any light. Sam's desk, once covered in neat piles of books and papers, was now covered by different guns and ammunition. A hot plate and a small supply of canned goods sat in the corner of the room. By Sam's bed was a duffle, already packed from the looks of it, and ready to go.
Chris looked around, then sank down on the bed slowly. Sam stared at him as if waiting for him to freak out, but it never came.
"All right," Chris finally said, his voice firm. "You seem to have all the answers. Tell me what I need to know."