New fic: Meeting Heroes.
So, as I'm feeling the fandom love right now, I have begun my long-vaguely-planned idea to write a semi-meta fic concerning adolescence, fandom and of course, the Winchesters. I can't really decide if this is (going to be) funny or poignant, but I'm hoping for a bit of both. I think it's going to be quite a nostalgic trip for me. See if you like.
Title: Meeting Heroes, 1/?
Author: reading_is_in
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Humour, Angst
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Summary. 16-year-old Lara Brown endures her last year of high school, life in the Wisconsin winter brightened only by her quiet love for an obscure graphic novel series called Supernatural and her best friend, Abby. Meanwhile, the Winchesters pursue a case in the same town. A tale of fandom love, friendship and freakness. No damsels will be needing deliverance in this story.
Forbidden Planet was filled with guys, as usual: a mix of Geeks, Goths and the odd businessman in an incongruously neat pressed suit, poring over the comic book collection. Heads turned as she walked in, but Lara Brown strode brusquely past the other customers, hands clamped protectively on the strap of her cloth bag. Eyes forward, she made a beeline for the bookshelves, and could feel her face stretching into a smile at of the familiar spines. The Supernatural logo lined up in neat repetitions, black, grey and blue along the bookshelves, but her heart jumped at the sight of the new cover, set face outwards with a placard reading JUST IN:
VOLUME 27: Simon Said.
Supressing a vocal reaction, but unable to help herself from a little dance on the spot, Lara grabbed the copy and flicked through it rapidly, squeaking internally at the abundance of new awesomeness. Taking out her phone, she called up the last in a series of increasingly forceful text messages:
Bitch wrote at 16.48: WELL?!?!?!!!!
IT’S HEAT!
Lara speed-texted, then:
HERE!!!!m. SRY PREDCTIVE TXT. OMFG!
Bitch wrote at 17.01: AAAAAH! DON’T KEEP ME IN SUSPENSE JERK! WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE
Of course, they’d both seen the promos. But a mini cover shot in a magazine could hardly do it justice.
A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. Lara texted as fast as she could: GET TO MINE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.
“Hi,” said the clerk, recognizing Lara as he bagged her purchase. “You really like these books, huh?” Lara blushed. She didn’t know why, but somehow being known as the girl who came in for the Supernatural books on the day they arrived made her - uncomfortable. It was stupid, really - it wasn’t like the clerk actually gave a crap, he was just being polite to a customer. But her feelings about the series were so intense, so - well, so much - it was like anybody who didn’t understand had no business commenting. The only person in her real life who knew about her obsession was Abby - and that was because Abby was equally obsessed.
It was how they’d met, actually. Three months ago, at the start of eleventh grade, Lara was new at school, lonely and miserable in her first Wisconsin winter, and was doodling Supernatural things in her notepad, just to remind herself she had something to look forward to once. She was just finishing up a sketch of the Impala, putting the finishing touches to the license plate, when the girl behind her had poked her and passed her a note. She had frowned and opened, half-expecting it to tell her people were sticking gum in her hair again, but she remembered distinctly the way her eyes had widened when she read the words,
Nice. 67?
Checking to make sure the teacher was occupied, Lara looked over her shoulder, to see a dark-haired girl in wire-framed glasses smiling a little embarrassedly. YES!! she wrote and underlined it several times, before adding, Do you like Supernatural? and returning the slip. I love it, came the scribbled reply: So happy to meet someone else who does! Which had made Lara brave enough to write, Carver Edlund owns my soul and from then on, they were pretty much golden. They shared all the information they could find about the little-read series, scoured the fansites together, and counted down the days until the next installment was published. They’d been planning to make today’s mission together, of course, but at the last minute Abby’s parents had insisted she stay home because they were expecting a package. Her brother had a baseball game, and it would be impossible to explain why she wanted to go get the new book with Lara on the day it came out.
Lara’s phone buzzed again as she was leaving the store:
Bitch wrote at 17:04I AM DYYYINGG! U HAVE IT IN UR HANDS! U R TOUCHING IT
HELL YEAH, Lara typed back, then grinned, tucked the new book securely into her bag, and patted it with a little skip of pure glee as she headed home, hours and hours of nothing but Sam, Dean and their new adventure ahead of her.
* * *
“Freaking Minnesota,” Dean Winchester complained as he stripped off his drenched jacket and dropped it on the floor of the motel room with a squelch. A puddle of rainwater spread out immediately from the fabric. “Freaking rain. Why can’t we work a hunt in say, Florida sometime?”
“It rains in Florida,” Sam said mildly. “Quite a lot, in fact.”
“Yeah, well….at least they have alligators,” Dean returned.
Sam gave him a look that was somewhere between archetypal-bitch and sometimes-I-seriously-think-you’ve-had-one-too-many-concussions. “I promise if we ever hear about a hunt that in some way, shape or form, involves alligators, we can take it,” he said somberly.
“You’d better, bitch,” Dean grumbled. “And I’m still not convinced we aren’t dealing with a regular human nutjob.”
“Three suspicious deaths in the same office building, on the same date, each thirty years apart? It must be a very old human nutjob, Dean.”
“Well this state does have one thing going for it, I guess,” Dean sat philosophically on his bunk and reached for his backpack.
A stomach-churning stench assailed Sam’s nostrils.
“Dude!” he choked, covering his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, “What is that?”
“Blue cheese,” said Dean happily, and took an enormous bite directly out of the chunk in his hand. Sam gagged. “What? Thishiza local special-y!” demanded Dean with his mouth full.
Sam coughed. “That is vile. Where did you even get that?”
“Gas station.” Dean swallowed, mercifully. “While you were in the bathroom forever, doing whatever you do in there. And I don’t want to know.”
“They sold cheese at the gas station?”
“I told you, it’s a local specialty.”
“You are a freak,” Sam pronounced. “You should not be allowed to roam free amongst normal humans.”
“Freaks have more fun, Sammy,” Dean advised him. “If there’s one lesson worth learning in this life, it is to never, ever, be suckered in by the ways of normal humans.” He crumbled the cheese paper into a ball and threw it in Sam’s face.
* * *
Lara unlocked the front door and paused, listening.
“Oh hi honey,” said her dad, coming out of the kitchen suddenly. Lara jumped about a mile in the air and dropped her bag.
“What on earth is the matter Lara?” said Dad, frowning, as Lara scrabbled to pick up her possessions. Of course, Barkley took that moment to come galumphing into the hallway, tail wagging like a propeller, and clamped his eager Labrador jaws around the pristine new book.
“Barkley, no!” cried Lara, and dad said, “Drop it!” Barkley obeyed the master of the house with alacrity:
“Another one?” Dad asked with vague disapproval: “Don’t you have enough of those Supernatural comics?”
“They’re not comics,” Lara snapped, wiping the book off and noting with relief the minimal damage-by-Barkley-slime. “They’re graphic novels.”
“Yes, well…it’s not really the sort of book college interviewers are going to want to talk about.”
“I’m gonna have plenty to talk about in my interviews, Dad,” she sighed. “Can we not have this conversation again?”
Dad held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just want the best for you Lara, you know that. You’re a very intelligent girl. You didn’t start wasting your time on those comics until last year.”
“I’m going to my room,” Lara said, heading for the staircase, then realized she’d better modify her tone: “Uh, Dad? Can Abby sleep over tonight?”
“If you’ve both done your homework and it’s alright with her parents. I expect you both to sleep, though, not stay up all night chatting.”
“We wiiillll,” said Lara. “Thankyoudad.” And ran up the stairs, clutching her prize to her chest. ‘Well, so what,’ she told herself fiercely. ‘It’s not like he would get it.’ She flung herself face down her bed, shoving books and papers aside, and pressed Simon Said deeply to her face, closing her eyes. Then she opened them, ran her fingers with pleasure down the fresh spine, and turned to the first page.
Part Two
Title: Meeting Heroes, 1/?
Author: reading_is_in
Fandom: Supernatural
Genre: Humour, Angst
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Summary. 16-year-old Lara Brown endures her last year of high school, life in the Wisconsin winter brightened only by her quiet love for an obscure graphic novel series called Supernatural and her best friend, Abby. Meanwhile, the Winchesters pursue a case in the same town. A tale of fandom love, friendship and freakness. No damsels will be needing deliverance in this story.
Forbidden Planet was filled with guys, as usual: a mix of Geeks, Goths and the odd businessman in an incongruously neat pressed suit, poring over the comic book collection. Heads turned as she walked in, but Lara Brown strode brusquely past the other customers, hands clamped protectively on the strap of her cloth bag. Eyes forward, she made a beeline for the bookshelves, and could feel her face stretching into a smile at of the familiar spines. The Supernatural logo lined up in neat repetitions, black, grey and blue along the bookshelves, but her heart jumped at the sight of the new cover, set face outwards with a placard reading JUST IN:
VOLUME 27: Simon Said.
Supressing a vocal reaction, but unable to help herself from a little dance on the spot, Lara grabbed the copy and flicked through it rapidly, squeaking internally at the abundance of new awesomeness. Taking out her phone, she called up the last in a series of increasingly forceful text messages:
Bitch wrote at 16.48: WELL?!?!?!!!!
IT’S HEAT!
Lara speed-texted, then:
HERE!!!!m. SRY PREDCTIVE TXT. OMFG!
Bitch wrote at 17.01: AAAAAH! DON’T KEEP ME IN SUSPENSE JERK! WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE
Of course, they’d both seen the promos. But a mini cover shot in a magazine could hardly do it justice.
A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. Lara texted as fast as she could: GET TO MINE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.
“Hi,” said the clerk, recognizing Lara as he bagged her purchase. “You really like these books, huh?” Lara blushed. She didn’t know why, but somehow being known as the girl who came in for the Supernatural books on the day they arrived made her - uncomfortable. It was stupid, really - it wasn’t like the clerk actually gave a crap, he was just being polite to a customer. But her feelings about the series were so intense, so - well, so much - it was like anybody who didn’t understand had no business commenting. The only person in her real life who knew about her obsession was Abby - and that was because Abby was equally obsessed.
It was how they’d met, actually. Three months ago, at the start of eleventh grade, Lara was new at school, lonely and miserable in her first Wisconsin winter, and was doodling Supernatural things in her notepad, just to remind herself she had something to look forward to once. She was just finishing up a sketch of the Impala, putting the finishing touches to the license plate, when the girl behind her had poked her and passed her a note. She had frowned and opened, half-expecting it to tell her people were sticking gum in her hair again, but she remembered distinctly the way her eyes had widened when she read the words,
Nice. 67?
Checking to make sure the teacher was occupied, Lara looked over her shoulder, to see a dark-haired girl in wire-framed glasses smiling a little embarrassedly. YES!! she wrote and underlined it several times, before adding, Do you like Supernatural? and returning the slip. I love it, came the scribbled reply: So happy to meet someone else who does! Which had made Lara brave enough to write, Carver Edlund owns my soul and from then on, they were pretty much golden. They shared all the information they could find about the little-read series, scoured the fansites together, and counted down the days until the next installment was published. They’d been planning to make today’s mission together, of course, but at the last minute Abby’s parents had insisted she stay home because they were expecting a package. Her brother had a baseball game, and it would be impossible to explain why she wanted to go get the new book with Lara on the day it came out.
Lara’s phone buzzed again as she was leaving the store:
Bitch wrote at 17:04I AM DYYYINGG! U HAVE IT IN UR HANDS! U R TOUCHING IT
HELL YEAH, Lara typed back, then grinned, tucked the new book securely into her bag, and patted it with a little skip of pure glee as she headed home, hours and hours of nothing but Sam, Dean and their new adventure ahead of her.
* * *
“Freaking Minnesota,” Dean Winchester complained as he stripped off his drenched jacket and dropped it on the floor of the motel room with a squelch. A puddle of rainwater spread out immediately from the fabric. “Freaking rain. Why can’t we work a hunt in say, Florida sometime?”
“It rains in Florida,” Sam said mildly. “Quite a lot, in fact.”
“Yeah, well….at least they have alligators,” Dean returned.
Sam gave him a look that was somewhere between archetypal-bitch and sometimes-I-seriously-think-you’ve-had-one-too-many-concussions. “I promise if we ever hear about a hunt that in some way, shape or form, involves alligators, we can take it,” he said somberly.
“You’d better, bitch,” Dean grumbled. “And I’m still not convinced we aren’t dealing with a regular human nutjob.”
“Three suspicious deaths in the same office building, on the same date, each thirty years apart? It must be a very old human nutjob, Dean.”
“Well this state does have one thing going for it, I guess,” Dean sat philosophically on his bunk and reached for his backpack.
A stomach-churning stench assailed Sam’s nostrils.
“Dude!” he choked, covering his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, “What is that?”
“Blue cheese,” said Dean happily, and took an enormous bite directly out of the chunk in his hand. Sam gagged. “What? Thishiza local special-y!” demanded Dean with his mouth full.
Sam coughed. “That is vile. Where did you even get that?”
“Gas station.” Dean swallowed, mercifully. “While you were in the bathroom forever, doing whatever you do in there. And I don’t want to know.”
“They sold cheese at the gas station?”
“I told you, it’s a local specialty.”
“You are a freak,” Sam pronounced. “You should not be allowed to roam free amongst normal humans.”
“Freaks have more fun, Sammy,” Dean advised him. “If there’s one lesson worth learning in this life, it is to never, ever, be suckered in by the ways of normal humans.” He crumbled the cheese paper into a ball and threw it in Sam’s face.
* * *
Lara unlocked the front door and paused, listening.
“Oh hi honey,” said her dad, coming out of the kitchen suddenly. Lara jumped about a mile in the air and dropped her bag.
“What on earth is the matter Lara?” said Dad, frowning, as Lara scrabbled to pick up her possessions. Of course, Barkley took that moment to come galumphing into the hallway, tail wagging like a propeller, and clamped his eager Labrador jaws around the pristine new book.
“Barkley, no!” cried Lara, and dad said, “Drop it!” Barkley obeyed the master of the house with alacrity:
“Another one?” Dad asked with vague disapproval: “Don’t you have enough of those Supernatural comics?”
“They’re not comics,” Lara snapped, wiping the book off and noting with relief the minimal damage-by-Barkley-slime. “They’re graphic novels.”
“Yes, well…it’s not really the sort of book college interviewers are going to want to talk about.”
“I’m gonna have plenty to talk about in my interviews, Dad,” she sighed. “Can we not have this conversation again?”
Dad held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just want the best for you Lara, you know that. You’re a very intelligent girl. You didn’t start wasting your time on those comics until last year.”
“I’m going to my room,” Lara said, heading for the staircase, then realized she’d better modify her tone: “Uh, Dad? Can Abby sleep over tonight?”
“If you’ve both done your homework and it’s alright with her parents. I expect you both to sleep, though, not stay up all night chatting.”
“We wiiillll,” said Lara. “Thankyoudad.” And ran up the stairs, clutching her prize to her chest. ‘Well, so what,’ she told herself fiercely. ‘It’s not like he would get it.’ She flung herself face down her bed, shoving books and papers aside, and pressed Simon Said deeply to her face, closing her eyes. Then she opened them, ran her fingers with pleasure down the fresh spine, and turned to the first page.
Part Two