Fic: A Potentially Dangerous Impression, SPN/HSM, Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans, NC-17 (21/?)
Title: A Potentially Dangerous Impression (part 21 of ?)
Author: SallySimpson
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1435, this chapter
Disclaimers: The usual. I am in no legal or professional way associated with any of the assorted films, shows, studios, actors, etc. I do not pretend this story actually happened, particularly as it's about fictional characters.
Summary: East High is the scene of a bizarre string of cyclical unexplained murders. It's got to be a job for Sam and Dean, but only one of them can go undercover as a high school student.
In this chapter: Attending high school with a homicidal ghost makes Sam awfully twitchy.
Huge thanks to zillah975 for providing invaluable feedback and concrit. Honey, if I could will you Dean's badass leather jacket, I totally would. With Dean still in it.
1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
Back in school the next morning, Sam could barely keep from jumping out of his skin, mellowing effects of sleepy sex or not. He was just too off-balance, worried for Ryan, on edge watching for the slightest hint of danger. And his mind churned in overdrive, raking over every single clue he and Dean had found, every scrap of information they'd scoured up. Where had they gone wrong? Minnie had been murdered, and ever since then she'd been haunting the students of East High. So they had dug up her grave, and salted and burned her bones. If they couldn't lay her soul to rest - Sam certainly hoped that they could, but he and Dean were just never quite sure on that point - at the very least they could prevent her from hurting another student. His quick and surreptitious sunrise scan of Ryan, his clothes, his room, his hats... all of it, his meter had revealed it all to be totally free of EMF activity. Dean was going to get a hell of an I told you so, but really Sam was just beyond relieved to find out that the young man wasn't haunted.
So what had they missed?
The idea that Ryan's heart attack had been caused by purely natural causes was unthinkable, and if-
"Sam! The imperfect aspect of terreo, please."
"Huh?" Sam looked up to find his Latin teacher waiting expectantly. "Ahh, teremus," he fumbled, and she gave him a look of surprise.
"No. Try again."
He stared at her blankly, distracted and agitated and - to tell the truth - more than a little pissed off that this crotchety relic was calling him on his Latin skills, of all things. "Terrerris."
"No," the teacher insisted, and shook her head. "You're disappointing me this morning. I'm sure we'd all appreciate it if you'd put a little effort into your homework tonight."
She turned to target another student, leaving Sam gaping. "Disappointing you?" he hissed incredulously, and the teacher turned back to him in irritation. But before she could fire another shot, Sam's cell phone started to blare the chorus of “Eye of the Tiger” loud and clear. He jumped and fumbled in his pocket, barely listening to the scolding this fetched him. Dean. "Yeah, sorry," Sam said, standing up and grabbing his backpack. "I'm going straight to the principal's office, absolutely," he called back over his shoulder, and was out the door in an instant.
He jogged down the hallway and then ducked into the boys' bathroom, flipping open his phone as he headed for the last stall. "Dean, what'd you find?"
"The coroner's report," Dean answered, his voice on the line thin but clearly irritated. "That's what I found."
"What?" Sam shook his head, struck stupid with bafflement. "Whose?"
"Minnie's, you idiot! I found the fucking coroner's report, with all the details of her autopsy." Dean huffed out an angry breath, filling Sam's ear with static. "The newspaper was right. She really was stabbed to death."
Comprehension dawned slowly, acceptance staggering a full step behind it. "No," Sam said, wincing. "That's not right. That'd mean-"
"We torched the wrong body, Sam!" Dean shouted, his frustration going head-to-head with his brother's denial. "Minnie's not the one who's been killing the kids."
Sam's eyes slipped shut in despair. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
"Yeah, fuck fuck fuck," Dean snapped. "Agreed. Now wake up, Sam! Those kids are in danger, and we don't know who to hunt!"
"Right," Sam breathed, and rubbed a hand hard over his eyes in an attempt to focus. "Dad's journal-"
"Dad's journal doesn't give us squat," Dean cut in. "I looked. We've got to start over. There's another spirit at that school, and we've got to find it. And Sam, something else," he added, his voice losing some of its aggravated edge, but none of its urgency. "I cross-checked the school's newspapers with the death records. The murder victims? Every single one of them had been hurt in the week before their deaths, in those sentinel events." He paused, letting that sink in. "Sammy, you've got to get Ryan out of there. And that other kid too, that girl who got burned."
"Damn it," Sam spat out, and slammed the bathroom door back open. "She hasn't come back to school yet, I heard some kids talking about her this morning," he replied, already swiftly making his way back down the hall to the stairwell.
"Good. Get out, Sam," Dean insisted. "Both of you."
"Got it," Sam muttered, hanging up. He slipped his cell back into his pocket and counted down the row of classrooms, covertly peeking into a few of the windows. Coming to a halt, he then leaned against a bank of lockers, attempting to slow his breathing, calm himself. It didn't work, but he kept trying anyway, inhaling, exhaling, checking his watch every few seconds, counting down in his head until finally-
The bell rang, signaling the end of the class period, and doors flew open up and down the hallway. Students noisily poured out of the classrooms, and Sam stood to the side of a doorway, waiting. He was grateful for once that he towered over everyone, had an unhampered view of everything. And the second Ryan stepped out of his class Sam collared him, pulling him aside.
"Hey! What-"
"Let's get out of here," Sam interrupted, towing Ryan down the hallway, pulling him around knots of students and not even bothering to shorten his long stride so that Ryan could keep up.
"Okay, but- what- Sam!" They broke into the daylight of the front courtyard and Ryan tugged his arm away, digging his heels in so that Sam would stop. "What is going on with you?"
Sam gritted his teeth and tried to come up with a plausible explanation. And he got... nothing. "It's a nice day," he said finally, "let's go do something fun."
"Something fun," Ryan repeated in a monotone, looking at him like he was just buckets of crazy. "Of course. Because you seem like you're in a really fun mood right now, definitely."
"Look, Ryan, I just- I don't want you here today," Sam exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration.
"You... okay. What?" Ryan dropped his messenger bag to the concrete, and folded his arms across his chest in a pose that clearly said he was going to damn well wait until Sam managed to contrive a good excuse.
Great, of all the times to get stubborn... Sam sighed. Then he shrugged, like it was nothing. "I missed you yesterday," he said brightly. "Let's go make up for it, or something."
"Right." Ryan's expression gave that stupid explanation all the dubiousness it deserved. "All right... look, I'm as happy as the next guy to skip school and hang out with my hot boyfriend." He paused and appeared to replay his words in his head, then amended, "The next gay guy, anyway. But you're not selling this really well."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Selling it?"
"Yeah. Sam, your body language isn't exactly screaming oodles of fun here," Ryan pointed out, waving his hands in the air like that would help make his point. "So, do you want to just tell me what it is that's bothering you?"
Sam's jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, squinting into the sunshine before turning back to meet Ryan's eyes directly. "I... I think your life might be in danger."
The silence that followed his confession was near deafening, giving Sam plenty of opportunity to regret attempting actual honesty for once.
"Okay." Ryan frowned in disbelief. Then he nodded once, and gave Sam a bright plastic smile. "For future reference, the phrase, 'Ryan, I want to cut school and have crazy sex with you on the dining room table' would be totally sufficient."
Swallowing hard, Sam tried to sort through the mess of relief and fear and sudden intense lust to see his way clear to some sort of sensible non-idiotic response. "Ryan, I want to cut school and have crazy sex with you," he murmured haltingly, and felt his cheeks heating up. "But not at your house."
"Your place is fine," Ryan answered promptly, throwing Sam's mind into a whole new riot of complications, because seriously, his motel room? Not. Possible. But before he could start stammering out new excuses, Ryan rescued him. "But first... do something for me?"
"Huh?" Sam snapped his attention back into place to find Ryan looking at him with that smile of his, that impossible mix that was part sweet, part devious. All irresistible. "Anything."
To Chapter 22
Author: SallySimpson
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1435, this chapter
Disclaimers: The usual. I am in no legal or professional way associated with any of the assorted films, shows, studios, actors, etc. I do not pretend this story actually happened, particularly as it's about fictional characters.
Summary: East High is the scene of a bizarre string of cyclical unexplained murders. It's got to be a job for Sam and Dean, but only one of them can go undercover as a high school student.
In this chapter: Attending high school with a homicidal ghost makes Sam awfully twitchy.
Huge thanks to zillah975 for providing invaluable feedback and concrit. Honey, if I could will you Dean's badass leather jacket, I totally would. With Dean still in it.
1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
Back in school the next morning, Sam could barely keep from jumping out of his skin, mellowing effects of sleepy sex or not. He was just too off-balance, worried for Ryan, on edge watching for the slightest hint of danger. And his mind churned in overdrive, raking over every single clue he and Dean had found, every scrap of information they'd scoured up. Where had they gone wrong? Minnie had been murdered, and ever since then she'd been haunting the students of East High. So they had dug up her grave, and salted and burned her bones. If they couldn't lay her soul to rest - Sam certainly hoped that they could, but he and Dean were just never quite sure on that point - at the very least they could prevent her from hurting another student. His quick and surreptitious sunrise scan of Ryan, his clothes, his room, his hats... all of it, his meter had revealed it all to be totally free of EMF activity. Dean was going to get a hell of an I told you so, but really Sam was just beyond relieved to find out that the young man wasn't haunted.
So what had they missed?
The idea that Ryan's heart attack had been caused by purely natural causes was unthinkable, and if-
"Sam! The imperfect aspect of terreo, please."
"Huh?" Sam looked up to find his Latin teacher waiting expectantly. "Ahh, teremus," he fumbled, and she gave him a look of surprise.
"No. Try again."
He stared at her blankly, distracted and agitated and - to tell the truth - more than a little pissed off that this crotchety relic was calling him on his Latin skills, of all things. "Terrerris."
"No," the teacher insisted, and shook her head. "You're disappointing me this morning. I'm sure we'd all appreciate it if you'd put a little effort into your homework tonight."
She turned to target another student, leaving Sam gaping. "Disappointing you?" he hissed incredulously, and the teacher turned back to him in irritation. But before she could fire another shot, Sam's cell phone started to blare the chorus of “Eye of the Tiger” loud and clear. He jumped and fumbled in his pocket, barely listening to the scolding this fetched him. Dean. "Yeah, sorry," Sam said, standing up and grabbing his backpack. "I'm going straight to the principal's office, absolutely," he called back over his shoulder, and was out the door in an instant.
He jogged down the hallway and then ducked into the boys' bathroom, flipping open his phone as he headed for the last stall. "Dean, what'd you find?"
"The coroner's report," Dean answered, his voice on the line thin but clearly irritated. "That's what I found."
"What?" Sam shook his head, struck stupid with bafflement. "Whose?"
"Minnie's, you idiot! I found the fucking coroner's report, with all the details of her autopsy." Dean huffed out an angry breath, filling Sam's ear with static. "The newspaper was right. She really was stabbed to death."
Comprehension dawned slowly, acceptance staggering a full step behind it. "No," Sam said, wincing. "That's not right. That'd mean-"
"We torched the wrong body, Sam!" Dean shouted, his frustration going head-to-head with his brother's denial. "Minnie's not the one who's been killing the kids."
Sam's eyes slipped shut in despair. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
"Yeah, fuck fuck fuck," Dean snapped. "Agreed. Now wake up, Sam! Those kids are in danger, and we don't know who to hunt!"
"Right," Sam breathed, and rubbed a hand hard over his eyes in an attempt to focus. "Dad's journal-"
"Dad's journal doesn't give us squat," Dean cut in. "I looked. We've got to start over. There's another spirit at that school, and we've got to find it. And Sam, something else," he added, his voice losing some of its aggravated edge, but none of its urgency. "I cross-checked the school's newspapers with the death records. The murder victims? Every single one of them had been hurt in the week before their deaths, in those sentinel events." He paused, letting that sink in. "Sammy, you've got to get Ryan out of there. And that other kid too, that girl who got burned."
"Damn it," Sam spat out, and slammed the bathroom door back open. "She hasn't come back to school yet, I heard some kids talking about her this morning," he replied, already swiftly making his way back down the hall to the stairwell.
"Good. Get out, Sam," Dean insisted. "Both of you."
"Got it," Sam muttered, hanging up. He slipped his cell back into his pocket and counted down the row of classrooms, covertly peeking into a few of the windows. Coming to a halt, he then leaned against a bank of lockers, attempting to slow his breathing, calm himself. It didn't work, but he kept trying anyway, inhaling, exhaling, checking his watch every few seconds, counting down in his head until finally-
The bell rang, signaling the end of the class period, and doors flew open up and down the hallway. Students noisily poured out of the classrooms, and Sam stood to the side of a doorway, waiting. He was grateful for once that he towered over everyone, had an unhampered view of everything. And the second Ryan stepped out of his class Sam collared him, pulling him aside.
"Hey! What-"
"Let's get out of here," Sam interrupted, towing Ryan down the hallway, pulling him around knots of students and not even bothering to shorten his long stride so that Ryan could keep up.
"Okay, but- what- Sam!" They broke into the daylight of the front courtyard and Ryan tugged his arm away, digging his heels in so that Sam would stop. "What is going on with you?"
Sam gritted his teeth and tried to come up with a plausible explanation. And he got... nothing. "It's a nice day," he said finally, "let's go do something fun."
"Something fun," Ryan repeated in a monotone, looking at him like he was just buckets of crazy. "Of course. Because you seem like you're in a really fun mood right now, definitely."
"Look, Ryan, I just- I don't want you here today," Sam exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration.
"You... okay. What?" Ryan dropped his messenger bag to the concrete, and folded his arms across his chest in a pose that clearly said he was going to damn well wait until Sam managed to contrive a good excuse.
Great, of all the times to get stubborn... Sam sighed. Then he shrugged, like it was nothing. "I missed you yesterday," he said brightly. "Let's go make up for it, or something."
"Right." Ryan's expression gave that stupid explanation all the dubiousness it deserved. "All right... look, I'm as happy as the next guy to skip school and hang out with my hot boyfriend." He paused and appeared to replay his words in his head, then amended, "The next gay guy, anyway. But you're not selling this really well."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Selling it?"
"Yeah. Sam, your body language isn't exactly screaming oodles of fun here," Ryan pointed out, waving his hands in the air like that would help make his point. "So, do you want to just tell me what it is that's bothering you?"
Sam's jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, squinting into the sunshine before turning back to meet Ryan's eyes directly. "I... I think your life might be in danger."
The silence that followed his confession was near deafening, giving Sam plenty of opportunity to regret attempting actual honesty for once.
"Okay." Ryan frowned in disbelief. Then he nodded once, and gave Sam a bright plastic smile. "For future reference, the phrase, 'Ryan, I want to cut school and have crazy sex with you on the dining room table' would be totally sufficient."
Swallowing hard, Sam tried to sort through the mess of relief and fear and sudden intense lust to see his way clear to some sort of sensible non-idiotic response. "Ryan, I want to cut school and have crazy sex with you," he murmured haltingly, and felt his cheeks heating up. "But not at your house."
"Your place is fine," Ryan answered promptly, throwing Sam's mind into a whole new riot of complications, because seriously, his motel room? Not. Possible. But before he could start stammering out new excuses, Ryan rescued him. "But first... do something for me?"
"Huh?" Sam snapped his attention back into place to find Ryan looking at him with that smile of his, that impossible mix that was part sweet, part devious. All irresistible. "Anything."
To Chapter 22