Skin--A Sam Evans character study
Title: Skin
Summary: Sam thinks about the affect his ability has had on his life.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
A/N: This is a timestamp for “Changes”, a story I'm writing on Livejournal where McKinley is a school for mutants like on X-Men. So if you haven't started reading that you may not get this. But if you don't feel like reading it just know that Sam is a mutant with impenetrable skin.
Changes:
Part 1 | Part 2
______________________
Sam's POV
It started out small. As a hyper little boy I rough-housed with the best of them. I ran and climbed and tackled like no one's business and never had a bruise or scrape to show for it. I was always able to jump up and shake it off while my friends sniffled and nursed little owies. My mom saw it as a blessing, that I was lucky enough to not get hurt. I thought it was pretty cool too. For a while I even thought I could be a superhero. I didn't know I was a mutant, I just thought I was lucky, and it made me brave. When I got a little older I was faced with doctor visits and shots for school.
Mrs. Delaine was an old woman, pushing seventy I think, and she was my doctor. When I came in for my seventh grade shots she joked that her old bones couldn't keep up with her job. I thought it was a funny joke and didn't flinch when the needle went in. I didn't realize that it was my skin making her job harder. My parents didn't either. That whole year I bought cheap comics and thought about what kind of superhero I could be and how cool it would be a be a mutant. At the end of the year I got into a car accident and make-believe stopped being fun.
Our car smashed into the back of an SUV. The whole front end of our car got smashed back. My dad broke both of his legs and still can't walk right without crutches. In the backseat my sister got whiplash and a nasty bruise across her chest from the seatbelt. I was fine. The dashboard and twisted metal from the front of our compact bent around me like memory foam. I was cut from the car without a single bruise or scratch. We didn't talk about it, didn't even acknowledge it until after Dad came home and could walk from the living room to the kitchen without someone elses' help. Then my parents were sitting me down and telling me all about mutants and love and standing strong in the face of adversity. It was pretty cool for a while, since Dad and Nadine were okay afterall.
Then a bunch of kids in our neighborhood got the flu and one little boy died. All around town people were getting flu shots and talking about how one little shot could have saved him. I couldn't get a shot, not anymore. My seventh grade shots, given by weak Mrs. Delaine, were that last shots I'd ever get. No matter how sick I got I'd never be able to get a shot to make it better, or an IV. If I needed surgery it wasn't going to happen. It scared me. It scared me so much I changed my entire lifestyle to make sure I was healthy. I didn't go out with wet hair or play in the rain. I made sure my hands were clean before I left the bathroom. And I waited until my family was halfway through their own meals before I started in on mine in case it was spoiled.
I settled into a nice routine and my mom supported me all though it. She even called the school each week to check how many kids were out, or in, sick. For a little while that was enough. But since I went out less I gained a little weight. Nothing drastic, I wasn't fat, just pudgy. Then I started thinking about how weight could affect my health and I got scared again. And it wasn't just the thought of heart disease or diabetes that had me worried. I thought about how well my skin kept things out and started thinking about how well my skin kept things in.
I had this horrible nightmare about my skin loosing elasticity. Suddenly I started thinking about my fat getting pushed in instead of pushing out. I'd spend hours thinking about how the fat would build up and up until it squashed all my organs into pancakes and killed me. So I started working out and taking vitamins and eating next to nothing. I still kept it healthy, brown rice, fish, and vegetables. My parents noticed, Nadine noticed, and it took me forever to figure out how scared they were. I tried to stop. I tried to enjoy dinner and eat ice cream with my little sister but I couldn't. No matter how good that first bite tasted, it didn't override the fear I felt about my weight and my health.
When Ken Tanaka came to my home to tell me about a mutant school I freaked. Not about the school, about him. He was fat, sweaty, and he just looked like he was covered in disease. I couldn't imagine going anywhere with him, even if it was for my own good. A woman came next, in a bright red track suit. She was thin, tall, and healthy. Sue Sylvester busted into my bedroom and demanded I go running with her. Two days later I was packed and ready to go away.
I get two calls a month from my parents and a letter at the end of every week from Nadine. Taped to the bottom of each, next to her sloppy cursive is a small piece of candy. She sends me a piece of hard butterscotch candy every week and every week she asks me how it tastes. I have a jar full of them on Artie's desk, right next to his stack of Game Informer magazine's. I still can't tell her how they taste because I don't know. I remember them being my favorite before all of this really started. But it's been so long and remembering isn't the same as knowing and I know Nadine knows the difference.
I hope that before I graduate I'll be able to eat one, or a couple. But I don't graduate for a few more years and candy has an expiration date of like never, so it's okay.
__________
I love Sam. I really do. I'm kicking myself for not making my X-Men AU a Sam/Kurt thing. I love that pairing. So because I love Sam, and angst, and character studies, this little ficlet was born. Lets say this takes place just before my fic.
This is a timestamp, spin-off thing, for “Changes”. Sam has impenetrable skin, like Superman I guess. There was a guy on “Heroes” with the same ability and I remember thinking about how scary that would be. Then I thought about Sam's obsession with his weight on the show, which I totally hope they go more into, and this little plot bunny just ran away with my imagination.
Summary: Sam thinks about the affect his ability has had on his life.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
A/N: This is a timestamp for “Changes”, a story I'm writing on Livejournal where McKinley is a school for mutants like on X-Men. So if you haven't started reading that you may not get this. But if you don't feel like reading it just know that Sam is a mutant with impenetrable skin.
Changes:
Part 1 | Part 2
______________________
Sam's POV
It started out small. As a hyper little boy I rough-housed with the best of them. I ran and climbed and tackled like no one's business and never had a bruise or scrape to show for it. I was always able to jump up and shake it off while my friends sniffled and nursed little owies. My mom saw it as a blessing, that I was lucky enough to not get hurt. I thought it was pretty cool too. For a while I even thought I could be a superhero. I didn't know I was a mutant, I just thought I was lucky, and it made me brave. When I got a little older I was faced with doctor visits and shots for school.
Mrs. Delaine was an old woman, pushing seventy I think, and she was my doctor. When I came in for my seventh grade shots she joked that her old bones couldn't keep up with her job. I thought it was a funny joke and didn't flinch when the needle went in. I didn't realize that it was my skin making her job harder. My parents didn't either. That whole year I bought cheap comics and thought about what kind of superhero I could be and how cool it would be a be a mutant. At the end of the year I got into a car accident and make-believe stopped being fun.
Our car smashed into the back of an SUV. The whole front end of our car got smashed back. My dad broke both of his legs and still can't walk right without crutches. In the backseat my sister got whiplash and a nasty bruise across her chest from the seatbelt. I was fine. The dashboard and twisted metal from the front of our compact bent around me like memory foam. I was cut from the car without a single bruise or scratch. We didn't talk about it, didn't even acknowledge it until after Dad came home and could walk from the living room to the kitchen without someone elses' help. Then my parents were sitting me down and telling me all about mutants and love and standing strong in the face of adversity. It was pretty cool for a while, since Dad and Nadine were okay afterall.
Then a bunch of kids in our neighborhood got the flu and one little boy died. All around town people were getting flu shots and talking about how one little shot could have saved him. I couldn't get a shot, not anymore. My seventh grade shots, given by weak Mrs. Delaine, were that last shots I'd ever get. No matter how sick I got I'd never be able to get a shot to make it better, or an IV. If I needed surgery it wasn't going to happen. It scared me. It scared me so much I changed my entire lifestyle to make sure I was healthy. I didn't go out with wet hair or play in the rain. I made sure my hands were clean before I left the bathroom. And I waited until my family was halfway through their own meals before I started in on mine in case it was spoiled.
I settled into a nice routine and my mom supported me all though it. She even called the school each week to check how many kids were out, or in, sick. For a little while that was enough. But since I went out less I gained a little weight. Nothing drastic, I wasn't fat, just pudgy. Then I started thinking about how weight could affect my health and I got scared again. And it wasn't just the thought of heart disease or diabetes that had me worried. I thought about how well my skin kept things out and started thinking about how well my skin kept things in.
I had this horrible nightmare about my skin loosing elasticity. Suddenly I started thinking about my fat getting pushed in instead of pushing out. I'd spend hours thinking about how the fat would build up and up until it squashed all my organs into pancakes and killed me. So I started working out and taking vitamins and eating next to nothing. I still kept it healthy, brown rice, fish, and vegetables. My parents noticed, Nadine noticed, and it took me forever to figure out how scared they were. I tried to stop. I tried to enjoy dinner and eat ice cream with my little sister but I couldn't. No matter how good that first bite tasted, it didn't override the fear I felt about my weight and my health.
When Ken Tanaka came to my home to tell me about a mutant school I freaked. Not about the school, about him. He was fat, sweaty, and he just looked like he was covered in disease. I couldn't imagine going anywhere with him, even if it was for my own good. A woman came next, in a bright red track suit. She was thin, tall, and healthy. Sue Sylvester busted into my bedroom and demanded I go running with her. Two days later I was packed and ready to go away.
I get two calls a month from my parents and a letter at the end of every week from Nadine. Taped to the bottom of each, next to her sloppy cursive is a small piece of candy. She sends me a piece of hard butterscotch candy every week and every week she asks me how it tastes. I have a jar full of them on Artie's desk, right next to his stack of Game Informer magazine's. I still can't tell her how they taste because I don't know. I remember them being my favorite before all of this really started. But it's been so long and remembering isn't the same as knowing and I know Nadine knows the difference.
I hope that before I graduate I'll be able to eat one, or a couple. But I don't graduate for a few more years and candy has an expiration date of like never, so it's okay.
__________
I love Sam. I really do. I'm kicking myself for not making my X-Men AU a Sam/Kurt thing. I love that pairing. So because I love Sam, and angst, and character studies, this little ficlet was born. Lets say this takes place just before my fic.
This is a timestamp, spin-off thing, for “Changes”. Sam has impenetrable skin, like Superman I guess. There was a guy on “Heroes” with the same ability and I remember thinking about how scary that would be. Then I thought about Sam's obsession with his weight on the show, which I totally hope they go more into, and this little plot bunny just ran away with my imagination.