The Fan
Title: The Fan
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Becky
Rating: PG1-13
Words: 428
Warnings: AU, S5 spoilers, language
Summary: Sam's on the football team. Becky's a huuuge fan.
A/N: Written for the AU College Fic meme. Original post is here.
Becky doesn’t wait outside the locker room like those other skanks, that would be way,way too obvious. Sam Winchester does not do obvious. No blond cheerleaders or oversexed sorority chicks for him, he’s too much of a thinker to be swayed by fake tits and easy blow jobs. That’s why he’s the quarterback.
She waits by his car instead, just close enough for him to see her but without giving off those stalker vibes the counselor warned her about. Small doses. She can show emotion, be exuberant, but in small, bite-sized doses. Regular Oreos instead of Double Stuf. A plain old cappuccino, instead of a triple shot mocha. Theatrical release instead of the director’s cut and Jesus Christ, what’s taking them so long?!!
“Hey, don’t I know you?”
She ducks and spins, her sneakers make a loud screeching noise, like squealing tires before a car crash. He’s caught her off guard, coming up behind her like that. If he’d walked out of the front gate (like he was supposed to do) she could have admired him from a distance, took in the broad shoulders, the square jaw, the pensive line between his eyes, the way his hair curled on his forehead whenever it was wet-she could have taken all of that in and dealt with it before he got a good look at her. By then she’d be smiling, tossing her hair, cool, don’t give a shit, whatevs, instead of a blinking, open-mouthed idiot that’s forgotten how words actually sound.
“You look familiar.”
He may or may not have called campus police about her last week. Probably not, but she hasn’t gone back to her residence hall yet, just in case. Anyway, the important thing is that he remembers her. She’s memorable. She’s stuck in some part of his brain, it’s her spot now.
“Oh, I’m just a fan.” That loves you. “Awesome game Sam, you were really great out there.”
“Thanks.”
Oh, that smile. She could lose herself in those lips, lap her tongue across that chiseled chin, “Well, okay, bye.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
She walks away, victorious. This was good, just two people chatting, shooting the shit, chilling because they’re both so cool and normal with each other. No one’s calling for help or stalking. It’s progress. Definitely not Double Stuf material.
Maybe next week she’ll tell him her name. Or-make one up, whichever feels more appropriate at the time.