Fic: Birdhunt (1/1)
Fic: Birdhunt (1/1)
Summary: Dean is still trying to figure out who that girl was.
Author: Pen37
Beta: divas_lament
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Lois, Sam, Dean
Rating: pg
A/N: This is the follow up to a story that I wrote a while back called Rise of the Flamebird. You should probably read that before starting this. I've decided to bring that storyline back for chleanthursday.
“What are we doing here?” Dean looked up at the towering building with the globe spinning on the top.
“You want to find that girl, right?” Sam crossed his arms and gave Dean an impatient look. Dean hated when Sam looked like that. Like he was so superior.
“Yeah, Mulder. I do.”
“And Mom wonders why we don’t get along,” Sam muttered.
“I just . . .” He pointed to the building. “The Daily Planet? What am I supposed to do? Walk in there and ask if they know why my face is fine and if a pretty blonde girl had anything to do with it?”
“I thought you didn’t get a good look at her.” Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t.” Dean crossed his arms.
“So, why do you think she’s pretty?”
“She . . . I have no idea.” Dean shrugged.
Sam sighed. “I thought you wanted to say thank you.”
“I do!” Dean protested.
“Right.” Sam drew the syllable out. “If we do find this girl, try not to scare her off.”
“So not helping.” Dean muttered.
“Look. The guy in the big blue suit?” Sam said. “He’s going by the name Superman. And the reason that I know that is that he gave an interview to one paper only : this one. I thought that maybe we could talk to the reporter - Lois Lane, and see if he mentioned your little blonde face saver.”
“Okay.” Dean nodded. “We’ll go in there and -“
“And you’ll let me do the talking,” Sam said. “Especially since you’re giving off scary stalker vibes. I can show them my badge, and they won’t ask too many questions.”
Dean nodded. “Okay, Girl Genius. Let’s go to work.”
“What’s with all the nicknames, dude?” Sam rolled his eyes.
“You get upset when I call you ‘Sammy.’” Dean said.
“So, ‘Girl Genius’ is better?”
“You prefer Mulder?”
“Sammy is fine,” Sam said. “Let’s stick with Sammy.”
Dean grinned. “Awesome.”
#
Chloe’s research into the density of pigeons per parking meter per capita was taking up most of her desk. She wanted to borrow that unused corner of Clark’s desk, but his papers usually blew off the second he heard “Help! Help!” from somewhere in the city.
Which seemed to be happening a lot lately. Ever since he came out of the phone booth, Superman had been very busy indeed.
Chloe wanted to be happy for him, but she couldn’t help but feel a touch of jealousy. After the big plane caper and the way she’d taken care of the firefighter, Clark wasn’t exactly jumping to let her go patrol with him, much less be part of world-saving activities on a larger scale.
It wasn’t like the injuries had killed her. Nothing much killed her these days. Her sight had come back in a few hours, and she didn’t really need to win any beauty contests that day anyway. The pain had even been manageable. She hadn’t screamed once.
But Mr. Intergalactic Traveler with Unfortunate Dress Sense was treating her like some kind of glass doll. She was on the verge of tracking down Andrea and seeing if the Angel of Vengeance needed a sidekick.
With a melancholy sigh, she cast a longing glance in the direction of Lois and Clark’s two desks . . . and froze. There were two tall guys standing there, grilling Lois about something. Alarm bells went off in the back of Chloe’s head.
The taller one was definitely Sam Winchester. She recognized him from the press release. TheFBI’s head of the Metropolis division of the Metauman Investigations Task Force. The guy who had every meta this side of the Mississippi worried.
The short one was the guy she’d saved at the plane.
The research in Chloe’s hand slipped out of her suddenly nervous fingers and onto the floor with a huge crash. Chloe dropped to the floor, and hoped that she hadn’t been seen. She muttered a litany of curse words under her breath as she began pulling the scattered information into a messy pile.
They know about me! She felt sick to her stomach - a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time. Clark, you idiot! Get back here and rescue me! The people in Upper West Antigonia can keep for a few minutes.
#
Sam had his you can trust me smile on when they walked into the Daily Planet’s upper offices. Dean hated that smile because it always seemed to work. When they were kids, he’d always gotten out of trouble and shifted the blame because of that dumb smile.
Then again, it had gotten the secretary down in the lobby to direct them up to the bullpen on the top floor. And the secretary up there had pointed them to a set of desks in the corner where Lois Lane worked.
She barely looked up from her computer to nod at Sam. “What can I do for you, Stretch?”
Sam frowned a little, which left Dean smiling in spite of himself. He already liked Lois.
“Sam Winchester, FBI. Division of Meta Affairs.” Sam showed his badge. “I’ve got a few questions about your interview with Superman.”
Lois responded by putting out her hand. Sam looked at her incredulously, which prompted an eyeroll from her. “Your badge, Stretch. I want to see it.” Sam’s face twisted in annoyance, before he handed her the badge.
She squinted at it, and then bobbed her head between him and the badge like an ostrich. “Huh. It’s real.”
“You have many people try to pull a fast one on you, Miss Lane?” Sam asked.
“You’d be surprised,” Lois said vaguely. “Okay, Stretch, what can I do you for?”
Dean snickered, and Sam elbowed him in the stomach.
“The Superman interview?”
“He’s alien, not meta. You did read the story, Stretch?”
Sam looked annoyed all over again, and Dean thought that Lois might be his new favorite reporter. “Yeah,” Sam said in a clipped voice. “Did he mention working with anyone? Possibly any metas he knew?”
“No.” Lois’s eyes cut over to a spot across the room. Then back to them. “Everything he said was in the article.”
Sam kept his face fixed firmly on Lois. But just before Dean could turn and see what Lois had been staring at, the sound of books hitting the floor from the same general direction drew his attention. He had the briefest impression of a blonde girl in a dark suit go diving for the research.
Dean’s heart sped up. He got up slowly, and crossed to the desk where the noise had come from. Then he knelt where the tiny blonde girl had been gathering up a big mess of paper.
“Hi.” He winced as his voice came out high and squeaky. He coughed to clear it.
She looked up at him, and seemed surprised at his sudden appearance there. “Hi.”
Dean knelt and started helping her pull the piles together and lifted them onto the desk next to her. “You need some help?”
“It’s okay.” She seemed flustered as she stood. “I’ve got it.”
“Heavy reading?”
“Research for a story. Watch out for the pigeon poop.”
Dean stood up suddenly as if he’d been about to sit on the head of a parking meter that was covered in bird crap. “You write about bird crap?” He gave her a funny look.
“The glamorous life of a Daily Planet reporter,” she said in a self-depreciating tone.
He laughed at that. “Couldn’t be worse than rebuilding the engine of an AMC Gremlin.”
“Dean?” Sam walked over to them. “Time to go.”
Dean sighed and then smiled at the girl. “I didn’t catch your name, gorgeous.”
“That’s because I don’t throw it.” She said.
“Ever?” Dean asked.
Her smile was mostly serious, but he could see the hint of teasing in her eyes. Then she nodded to the name plate on her desk. Chloe Sullivan. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Sherlock.”
Dean grinned at that. The stupid grin stayed on his face as he followed Sam to the elevator. Once the doors had closed, he turned to his brother.
“That was her.”
“How do you know?” Sam asked.
Dean thought about that. He had no idea how he knew, but every instinct that he had told him that she was familiar.
“Dunno. Just do.”
“Okay,” Sam sighed. “So, now what?”
Dean deflated a little at that. “Not a clue.”
Sam sighed. “Great.”