Fic: A Potentially Dangerous Impression, SPN/HSM, Sam/Ryan, NC-17 (33/35)
Title: A Potentially Dangerous Impression (part 33 of 35)
Author: SallySimpson
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1457, 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.
Author's Note: To those of you who have been waiting, I'm really sorry about the posting lag. I'll be the first to admit, I can over-obsess at times. *g*
Innumerable thanks to zillah975, who is the rock salt to my shotgun (and my tequila).
1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20 || 21 || 22 || 23 || 24 || 25 || 26 || 27 || 28 || 29 || 30 || 31 || 32
In this chapter: Ryan does not want to have this talk with Sam. Ever.
“Our best guess is a girl named Celia Smithson. She was reported missing the day after Minnie Winslow’s murder, but it really didn’t get any press because of the big flap over Minnie.” Sam held out a piece of paper, then sat down next to Ryan. Ryan frowned down at the photocopied news article. “Six months later, Celia’s family took out an ad in the Albuquerque Gazette, offering a reward for information on her whereabouts. They got a few responses, but never any firm info.”
“God, that’s sad,” Ryan murmured. Sam handed over another Xeroxed sheet. The grainy black-and-white photo showed a teenage girl smiling shyly for the camera, one shoulder dipped in a demure come-hither pose. “Very Veronica Lake,” he observed, and traced his fingertip over the girl’s light-colored hair, falling in waves past her chin. “No one had any idea what happened to her?”
“Nope.” Sam sighed, and put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Minnie’s family had a lot of money, and could command a lot of attention. The city was in an uproar trying to find her murderer. A girl who was just missing - one whose father wasn’t a leading local businessman - couldn’t attract much interest in Minnie’s shadow.”
“Just like always, huh?” Ryan bit down on his lower lip. “You and Dean are still figuring on the theory that her spirit was angry because no one ever knew what happened to her?”
“Right. And they probably had the same murderer, just going on likelihood.” Sam’s fingers moved in an aimless caress over Ryan’s nape, and Ryan shivered, drawing closer. “If anything, we’re guessing that Celia was actually the initial target. It’s only in movies that a killer makes a perfect deep slash across someone’s throat while they’re running by at twenty miles an hour,” he explained. “Minnie bled to death from seven stab wounds. That kind of thing, that’s frantic. Fast and messy. Celia’s wound... well, it seemed a lot more deliberate.” Sam shrugged, and looked at Ryan apologetically. “Dean thinks Minnie was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like, she stumbled on the murderer right after he killed Celia.”
“God, I can’t believe you know all this stuff,” Ryan muttered, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Then he looked at Sam in question. “Dean thinks that,” he echoed. “What do you think?”
“I...” Sam trailed off, and appeared to give his answer serious thought. “I think Dean’s probably right about this.” Ryan shook his head, opening his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off. “I hate not knowing,” he said quietly, and his frown deepened. “I despise not knowing. I want it all to add up, to make sense. At least for there to be some kind of logical explanation. But Dean’s right, this case is way too old, and the police never found any good clues to start with.” He sighed. “I need to accept that we’re not going to be able to wrap this one up all neat and tidy.”
That acceptance wasn’t going to be easy to come by, obviously. Ryan could see how much it disturbed Sam, the fact that he’d never know. Not for certain. “You kind of promised the spirit that you’d tell the world what happened to her.”
“Yeah. I know.” The desolation in Sam’s eyes deepened.
“But then she tried to kill you.” Ryan laid his hand on Sam’s cheek, coaxing him to meet his eyes. “I say that relieves you of any obligations to be nice and fair, you know? She had a chance for you to help her, and she went all psycho on us instead.” He nodded. “Screw that.”
Sam huffed a soft laugh, staring at Ryan in something that looked like wonder. “Screw that?” he repeated, and linked his fingers with Ryan’s. “Yeah. I guess you’re right, too.”
“Of course I am.” Ryan’s tone was flippant, though he felt deadly serious. “Definitely let this one go.” He leaned in close and pressed his lips to Sam’s, trying to distract him. Draw him deeper. Sam slid his hands up Ryan’s back, and Ryan could feel the tension beginning to melt out of his rigid frame.
Until Sam drew away.
“Speaking of letting go,” he whispered, and Ryan couldn’t help but wince.
“Right,” Ryan whispered back, and trailed his fingers over the clean line of Sam’s jaw. He tried to steel himself for this, the conversation he’d realized they would have to have.
He just wished it hadn’t come so soon.
“So... that’s it?”
“Yep,” Sam agreed with a sigh. “That’s it, case closed. I was only set up at East High to track down the thing that was murdering the students, so we could take care of it. So we could stop it. And now, we have,” he explained. “So now we’ll move on, and find the next spirit, or cursed artifact, or vampire-“
“Vampires?” Ryan broke in, disbelief heavy in his voice.
“Yeah, don’t get me started,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Or, you know, shapeshifter or witch or changeling or whatever.”
Ryan’s brows rose. “Now you’re just mocking me.”
“I’m serious,” Sam laughed, totally unapologetic. “I’m telling you, we get all kinds. And then,” he shrugged, “well, we get them. And then we move on again.”
This time his sigh sounded tired, and Ryan fought against the urge to take Sam into his arms and kiss all his demons away. “And this is what you do,” he murmured after a moment spent trying to digest all that. “You and Dean.”
“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “This is what we do.”
Three weeks ago... it would have been impossible to believe. But now, Ryan reflected wryly, one way-too-close encounter with a pissed-off spirit made the most outrageous story sound totally reasonable. “All right. So you two, you’re the big ghostbusting cowboys, huh?” He grinned, and was rewarded with Sam’s laugh again.
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “Something like that.”
Ryan nodded and hitched a little closer, tracing his fingertip along Sam’s palm. “So, do you think you might be able to swing back this way sometime?” he asked, hope in his smile. “Maybe on your off days, when you really need a break from it all? I know a great spa,” he teased.
But the light in Sam’s eyes died instantly, and he chewed on his lip before he spoke again. “Usually, it’s us chasing down the bad guys,” he said slowly, his voice dropping low. “But not always. Sometimes... sometimes they find us.” He watched Ryan with steady concentration. “People we’re around... people tend to get hurt.”
Taking it all in, Ryan nodded again. “I can see how that would be,” he said softly, wanting to deny the possibility and reassure Sam, all at once. “But you can’t let fear get in the way of living, right?”
Sam huffed a laugh. “Fear. Right,” he whispered, and his mouth twisted in pain. “Look, Ryan... don’t take this the wrong way, all right?”
But, Ryan’s mind silently supplied, and sure enough, a moment later Sam echoed him.
“But... I’d give up any chance of ever seeing you again, just to know that you’re safe.”
The words struck Ryan like a fist to his gut, pain radiating through him even as he tried to get his breath back. “Right,” he whispered, struggling to keep his composure. His mouth was suddenly dry, and his mind raced through one angry protest after another. Somehow he knew that this was one time that he simply wasn’t going to be able to wear Sam down, no matter how hard he tried.
And if this was truly to be his and Sam’s last night together - ever, by the looks of it - then he definitely didn’t want to waste it this way.
“So... then I guess we should make this good, huh?” he said quietly, giving Sam a forced smile.
"This?"
Ryan gestured at his neatly made bed, then laid a hand on Sam's thigh. "This," he confirmed.
“Ryan, it’s always good between us,” Sam answered with a soft chuckle, and Ryan nearly melted.
“All right. So then we should make it special,” he replied, meeting Sam’s eyes.
“Special,” Sam repeated, and he swallowed hard, nervousness flashing across his face for an instant. “Um, look. I should tell you... we’ve already reached the limits of my experience with other guys, okay?” He shrugged like it was no big thing, but Ryan knew him well enough now to read that gesture as a mere cover, and a thin one at that.
“You mean... you never...?” Ryan let the question trail off, his gaze sharpening.
“Yeah,” Sam muttered, “that. I never.”
Ryan’s smile turned genuine. “Don’t worry,” he said, wickedness dancing through him. “I’ll talk you through it.”
To Chapter 34
Author: SallySimpson
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1457, 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.
Author's Note: To those of you who have been waiting, I'm really sorry about the posting lag. I'll be the first to admit, I can over-obsess at times. *g*
Innumerable thanks to zillah975, who is the rock salt to my shotgun (and my tequila).
1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20 || 21 || 22 || 23 || 24 || 25 || 26 || 27 || 28 || 29 || 30 || 31 || 32
In this chapter: Ryan does not want to have this talk with Sam. Ever.
“Our best guess is a girl named Celia Smithson. She was reported missing the day after Minnie Winslow’s murder, but it really didn’t get any press because of the big flap over Minnie.” Sam held out a piece of paper, then sat down next to Ryan. Ryan frowned down at the photocopied news article. “Six months later, Celia’s family took out an ad in the Albuquerque Gazette, offering a reward for information on her whereabouts. They got a few responses, but never any firm info.”
“God, that’s sad,” Ryan murmured. Sam handed over another Xeroxed sheet. The grainy black-and-white photo showed a teenage girl smiling shyly for the camera, one shoulder dipped in a demure come-hither pose. “Very Veronica Lake,” he observed, and traced his fingertip over the girl’s light-colored hair, falling in waves past her chin. “No one had any idea what happened to her?”
“Nope.” Sam sighed, and put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “Minnie’s family had a lot of money, and could command a lot of attention. The city was in an uproar trying to find her murderer. A girl who was just missing - one whose father wasn’t a leading local businessman - couldn’t attract much interest in Minnie’s shadow.”
“Just like always, huh?” Ryan bit down on his lower lip. “You and Dean are still figuring on the theory that her spirit was angry because no one ever knew what happened to her?”
“Right. And they probably had the same murderer, just going on likelihood.” Sam’s fingers moved in an aimless caress over Ryan’s nape, and Ryan shivered, drawing closer. “If anything, we’re guessing that Celia was actually the initial target. It’s only in movies that a killer makes a perfect deep slash across someone’s throat while they’re running by at twenty miles an hour,” he explained. “Minnie bled to death from seven stab wounds. That kind of thing, that’s frantic. Fast and messy. Celia’s wound... well, it seemed a lot more deliberate.” Sam shrugged, and looked at Ryan apologetically. “Dean thinks Minnie was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like, she stumbled on the murderer right after he killed Celia.”
“God, I can’t believe you know all this stuff,” Ryan muttered, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Then he looked at Sam in question. “Dean thinks that,” he echoed. “What do you think?”
“I...” Sam trailed off, and appeared to give his answer serious thought. “I think Dean’s probably right about this.” Ryan shook his head, opening his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off. “I hate not knowing,” he said quietly, and his frown deepened. “I despise not knowing. I want it all to add up, to make sense. At least for there to be some kind of logical explanation. But Dean’s right, this case is way too old, and the police never found any good clues to start with.” He sighed. “I need to accept that we’re not going to be able to wrap this one up all neat and tidy.”
That acceptance wasn’t going to be easy to come by, obviously. Ryan could see how much it disturbed Sam, the fact that he’d never know. Not for certain. “You kind of promised the spirit that you’d tell the world what happened to her.”
“Yeah. I know.” The desolation in Sam’s eyes deepened.
“But then she tried to kill you.” Ryan laid his hand on Sam’s cheek, coaxing him to meet his eyes. “I say that relieves you of any obligations to be nice and fair, you know? She had a chance for you to help her, and she went all psycho on us instead.” He nodded. “Screw that.”
Sam huffed a soft laugh, staring at Ryan in something that looked like wonder. “Screw that?” he repeated, and linked his fingers with Ryan’s. “Yeah. I guess you’re right, too.”
“Of course I am.” Ryan’s tone was flippant, though he felt deadly serious. “Definitely let this one go.” He leaned in close and pressed his lips to Sam’s, trying to distract him. Draw him deeper. Sam slid his hands up Ryan’s back, and Ryan could feel the tension beginning to melt out of his rigid frame.
Until Sam drew away.
“Speaking of letting go,” he whispered, and Ryan couldn’t help but wince.
“Right,” Ryan whispered back, and trailed his fingers over the clean line of Sam’s jaw. He tried to steel himself for this, the conversation he’d realized they would have to have.
He just wished it hadn’t come so soon.
“So... that’s it?”
“Yep,” Sam agreed with a sigh. “That’s it, case closed. I was only set up at East High to track down the thing that was murdering the students, so we could take care of it. So we could stop it. And now, we have,” he explained. “So now we’ll move on, and find the next spirit, or cursed artifact, or vampire-“
“Vampires?” Ryan broke in, disbelief heavy in his voice.
“Yeah, don’t get me started,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Or, you know, shapeshifter or witch or changeling or whatever.”
Ryan’s brows rose. “Now you’re just mocking me.”
“I’m serious,” Sam laughed, totally unapologetic. “I’m telling you, we get all kinds. And then,” he shrugged, “well, we get them. And then we move on again.”
This time his sigh sounded tired, and Ryan fought against the urge to take Sam into his arms and kiss all his demons away. “And this is what you do,” he murmured after a moment spent trying to digest all that. “You and Dean.”
“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “This is what we do.”
Three weeks ago... it would have been impossible to believe. But now, Ryan reflected wryly, one way-too-close encounter with a pissed-off spirit made the most outrageous story sound totally reasonable. “All right. So you two, you’re the big ghostbusting cowboys, huh?” He grinned, and was rewarded with Sam’s laugh again.
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “Something like that.”
Ryan nodded and hitched a little closer, tracing his fingertip along Sam’s palm. “So, do you think you might be able to swing back this way sometime?” he asked, hope in his smile. “Maybe on your off days, when you really need a break from it all? I know a great spa,” he teased.
But the light in Sam’s eyes died instantly, and he chewed on his lip before he spoke again. “Usually, it’s us chasing down the bad guys,” he said slowly, his voice dropping low. “But not always. Sometimes... sometimes they find us.” He watched Ryan with steady concentration. “People we’re around... people tend to get hurt.”
Taking it all in, Ryan nodded again. “I can see how that would be,” he said softly, wanting to deny the possibility and reassure Sam, all at once. “But you can’t let fear get in the way of living, right?”
Sam huffed a laugh. “Fear. Right,” he whispered, and his mouth twisted in pain. “Look, Ryan... don’t take this the wrong way, all right?”
But, Ryan’s mind silently supplied, and sure enough, a moment later Sam echoed him.
“But... I’d give up any chance of ever seeing you again, just to know that you’re safe.”
The words struck Ryan like a fist to his gut, pain radiating through him even as he tried to get his breath back. “Right,” he whispered, struggling to keep his composure. His mouth was suddenly dry, and his mind raced through one angry protest after another. Somehow he knew that this was one time that he simply wasn’t going to be able to wear Sam down, no matter how hard he tried.
And if this was truly to be his and Sam’s last night together - ever, by the looks of it - then he definitely didn’t want to waste it this way.
“So... then I guess we should make this good, huh?” he said quietly, giving Sam a forced smile.
"This?"
Ryan gestured at his neatly made bed, then laid a hand on Sam's thigh. "This," he confirmed.
“Ryan, it’s always good between us,” Sam answered with a soft chuckle, and Ryan nearly melted.
“All right. So then we should make it special,” he replied, meeting Sam’s eyes.
“Special,” Sam repeated, and he swallowed hard, nervousness flashing across his face for an instant. “Um, look. I should tell you... we’ve already reached the limits of my experience with other guys, okay?” He shrugged like it was no big thing, but Ryan knew him well enough now to read that gesture as a mere cover, and a thin one at that.
“You mean... you never...?” Ryan let the question trail off, his gaze sharpening.
“Yeah,” Sam muttered, “that. I never.”
Ryan’s smile turned genuine. “Don’t worry,” he said, wickedness dancing through him. “I’ll talk you through it.”
To Chapter 34