Fic: Special Projects: Virus (1/7)
Fic: Virus (1/7)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: A stopover at Ellen's is not as restful as the group hoped it would be, thanks to computer-literate Demons.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg-13
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #98 Writers Choice (tech). The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
The only thing Sam could find on TV was an old episode of The Simpsons, which wasn’t really a bad thing. He’d watched snatches of the show, growing up. Nothing with any real kind of frequency, given the way they were always on the move. But enough to know who was who.
He kind of enjoyed watching Bart and Lisa interact, truth be told. In a weird way, their affectionate, dysfunctional relationship reminded him of his own sibling relationship with Dean. Not that he’d ever tell Dean that. Especially since he knew Dean would fixate on the parallels between him and Lisa, and wonder why he was comparing himself to a girl.
As he watched Homer throttle Bart, he was reminded of Bobby and the disgusted expression he made whenever Dean was deep in debauchery mode. Come to think of it, he could see people he knew in several of the characters from Springfield.
A knock on the door pulled him out of that line of thought. Sam switched the TV off and peeked through the spyhole. On the other side, Dean had pressed his own eye up to the peephole. Sam shook his head at seeing his brother’s face distorted comically.
“Come on, Sammy! Let me in! It’s freakin’ cold out here!”
Sam opened the door, and stood back as Dean brushed past him and through the door. “’Bout time, Bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam said mildly as he shut the door behind Dean. He made a face at Dean as he threw his beat-up, damp leather jacket onto the nice clean bed that Sam had just gotten up from. Sam scowled at Dean’s actions.
In the past few weeks, Dean had “moved in” with Chloe. This basically meant that Sam got his own motel room, and Chloe had to deal with Dean’s pig-like lack of housekeeping. The situation suited Sam just fine. He didn’t have to have a front row seat to Dean’s blatant attempts at seducing Chloe, and his exposure to the least charming of Dean’s character quirks was minimized.
Which - actually, come to think of it, made Sam wonder why Dean was interrupting his “me time” as opposed to once again trying to talk Chloe into bed. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Dean gave him a totally unconvincing grin and produced a deck of cards.
“Chloe’s out doing some chick thing that I’m told I don’t want to know about.” Dean shrugged. “So I was wondering how badly I could beat you at Texas Hold ‘em.”
Sam blinked in confusion. Dean was . . . wanting to hang out with him? Sam wasn’t sure what to make of that. They didn’t just . . . hang out. They hunted, or . . . hunted. He must have still looked confused, because Dean smiled one of those wheedling little smiles at him.
“Come on . . . Can Sammy come out to play?”
An amused smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “You want to play poker with a psychic?”
“Dude, you totally can’t read my mind,” Dean said.
“Says who?” Sam grinned knowingly.
“If you could read my mind, you would totally make that face all the time.”
“What face?”
“You know,” Dean sat down at the table in the corner of the room and started to shuffle the cards. “That face you make whenever I do something you don’t like. The bitchface.”
“The bitchface?” Sam looked at him incredulously.
“I call it like I see it, Sam.” Dean shrugged.
Sam rolled his eyes as he sat down across the table from Dean. That was another thing he enjoyed about separate rooms: lack of 24/7 exposure to Dean’s caustic sense of humor. “I suppose it’s a good thing,” he said. “I wouldn’t want a window into your brain anyway. I’d probably need a lifetime supply of brain bleach.”
“You know, some people think I’m charming,” Dean said as he dealt Sam’s cards to him.
“Some people don’t live with you,” Sam muttered as he picked up the cards and arranged them in his hands.
“Chloe thinks I’m charming.”
“And love is blind.”
There was a long quiet pause. Sam looked up to see Dean giving him a thoughtful look. “You think?”
On so many levels, Sam didn’t know how to respond to that. If he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have said the L word at all. Especially since he had no idea how Dean would take it. Sam was normally really good at reading Dean. But he had a poker face like you wouldn’t believe. And right now, it was firmly in place. Sam couldn’t even get the slightest inkling if he was freaked or not.
And given the way Chloe tried so damn hard not to let people in - Dean freaking out wouldn’t exactly help their relationship.
Sam shrugged in response.
Dean nodded and turned back to his own cards.
***
Physician’s notes as dictated to E-charts, medical charting program.
Miss Sullivan has an extensive medical history with this clinic. She was first referred to Dr. Hixon by a friend, and desired extensive medical testing and help with monitoring health. The patient expressed concerns that she may be a latent metahuman, and that her health might be seriously at risk as a direct result.
She remained a patient at this clinic for approximately four years before metahuman abilities rendered her an aggressive immune system. As a direct result, her visits initially spiked as the repercussions of her new physical state were fully explored, but then gradually tapered off and stopped.
Though questions remain concerning the limitations or lack thereof, of patient’s abilities, we feel confident that the patient will come to us should she experience any major physiological changes.
***
Because she was a self-healing metahuman, Chloe hadn’t needed a doctor in years. Not since the moment that her powers kicked in and she could walk away from a hospital, when by all rights she should have been riding away in a hearse.
Which was fine by her. Given the number of times she’d been caught snooping around evil labs and then thrown to the lions - thank God for alien best friends and their mostly impeccable timing - and then add in her recent memories of Lex’s lab o’ doom, and she wasn’t exactly jumping up and down to go in for regularly scheduled check-ups.
But this time, given the reason she was even at the doctor’s office, she had plenty of excuses to be nervous. It didn’t help that she was supposed to wear one of those little gowns that fastened up the back, and an oversized sheet around her waist. Why they insisted on that - when they knew about her particular condition - was a total mystery to her.
So there she sat - in a completely lacking-of-the-dignity hospital gown and bed sheet, swinging her bare feet like a six-year-old, waiting for the doctor to come in.
Dr. Hixon stuck her head in the door and gave Chloe a sunny smile. “Chloe? I didn’t expect to see you again.”
Chloe shrugged, and gave Dr. Hixon a tiny smile. When she found out about the chance that she was meta, Ollie had found Dr. Hixon for her. The doc was a specialist in unusual physiologies, and actually saw several other members of the Justice League. After she'd actually gotten her abilities, the two women spent the next year off-and-on, exploring the implications of her new powers. Well, most of them anyway. “I wasn’t either, Doc.”
Dr. Hixon gave her a tiny smile and fully entered the room. She adjusted her glasses and looked down at Chloe’s chart. “So . . . I see you’re here about plumbing issues.”
Chloe looked down at her toes and nodded.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Chloe,” The doctor chuckled. “Given your unique physiology, it’s perfectly natural to be concerned about this aspect of your body. And . . . prepared before making any decisions that could impact your future.” She looked up at Chloe and gave her a tiny smile.
“So, I take it that we’ve never settled the question of whether you can, actually, have kids?”
Chloe shrugged. “Given my past experiences with the medical field, you’re really the only doctor that I trust. And once we found out that I wasn’t going to go crazy, and my powers were benign. That was enough information for me.”
Contraception hadn’t been an issue then, because sex had been kind of low-priority. But now, with Dean . . . there looked like there might be sex in the future.
A lot of sex.
And given Dean’s relentless pursuit of her, his amazing, almost encyclopedic knowledge of her body, and her incredibly half-hearted resistance . . . it just might be soon.
Chloe wanted to think that she was strong willed. That she could stick to her guns and hold him at bay. But if Dean were determined enough, he was going to get past her defenses. And he was definitely determined enough.
Hell, it seemed that lately, all he’d have to do is throw her over his shoulder like a pirate kidnapping a wench and carry her off to their room and she was done for.
Not that she’d let him in on that little secret. She was still trying to fend him off. At least for a little longer. At least so that he would try to see in himself the things that Chloe and Sam saw in him, and maybe to give her a little more time to feel secure with him.
But there was no sense in being unprepared. Since she was sure that her reproductive system was just as healthy as the rest of her. And if Dean’s little swimmers met up with her girls, they’d probably go at it just about as hot and heavy as she and Dean were. Which meant that her girls had zero fighting chance in the game of contraception Russian roulette.
And as much as she was coming to care for Dean, she wasn’t ready to inflict a “mini-me” version of him on the world. Even if the kid would be too damn cute and trouble-prone for his own good.
“I suppose that’s a bridge we can cross when you’re ready to take that step,” Dr. Hixon said. “I would like you to submit to some kind of testing in preparation for it - just so we can make sure that a viable fetus could survive your own aggressive immune system. And if not, then if taking an immunosuppressant would help.”
Chloe nodded. “Right now though, I’m more interested in being baby-free,” she said.
“Of course,” The doctor nodded in agreement. “Is your prospective partner aware of your unique physiology?”
Chloe looked down again and nodded.
“You might want to make sure that he has protection with him anyway,” Dr. Hixon said. “Because in your unique situation --barrier protection is going to be the only effective method. And given that you don’t have to worry about STD’s, he may have the mistaken impression that he is off the hook.”
Chloe grinned. “Honestly? I haven’t discussed sex with Dean. I’m afraid that it might be too big a turn-on.”
“He’s a bit relentless then?”
“You have no idea,” Chloe laughed. “Single minded is a good word for it. And that mind is kept in the little head.”
“I would worry if I didn’t know that you were such a responsible woman,” Dr. Hixon frowned.
Chloe knew that by now she was probably tomato red to the tips of her ears. “This is silly,” she muttered. “I’ve seen stuff though my job that is way more embarrassing than this. But talking about sex with my boyfriend, and suddenly it’s like I’m nine and boys have cooties again.”
Dr. Hixon patted her shoulder. “Given that you’re so work-focused and driven, it’s not that surprising.”
“It’s not?” Chloe’s eyes widened in question.
“Not at all,” Dr. Hixon shook her head. “Usually the tough exterior is out there to hide the tender inside.”
For the millionth time that day, Chloe was glad that Dean wasn’t with her. Because a statement like that would be something he would fall on like a live grenade.
Series: Special Projects
Summary: A stopover at Ellen's is not as restful as the group hoped it would be, thanks to computer-literate Demons.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg-13
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #98 Writers Choice (tech). The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
The only thing Sam could find on TV was an old episode of The Simpsons, which wasn’t really a bad thing. He’d watched snatches of the show, growing up. Nothing with any real kind of frequency, given the way they were always on the move. But enough to know who was who.
He kind of enjoyed watching Bart and Lisa interact, truth be told. In a weird way, their affectionate, dysfunctional relationship reminded him of his own sibling relationship with Dean. Not that he’d ever tell Dean that. Especially since he knew Dean would fixate on the parallels between him and Lisa, and wonder why he was comparing himself to a girl.
As he watched Homer throttle Bart, he was reminded of Bobby and the disgusted expression he made whenever Dean was deep in debauchery mode. Come to think of it, he could see people he knew in several of the characters from Springfield.
A knock on the door pulled him out of that line of thought. Sam switched the TV off and peeked through the spyhole. On the other side, Dean had pressed his own eye up to the peephole. Sam shook his head at seeing his brother’s face distorted comically.
“Come on, Sammy! Let me in! It’s freakin’ cold out here!”
Sam opened the door, and stood back as Dean brushed past him and through the door. “’Bout time, Bitch.”
“Jerk,” Sam said mildly as he shut the door behind Dean. He made a face at Dean as he threw his beat-up, damp leather jacket onto the nice clean bed that Sam had just gotten up from. Sam scowled at Dean’s actions.
In the past few weeks, Dean had “moved in” with Chloe. This basically meant that Sam got his own motel room, and Chloe had to deal with Dean’s pig-like lack of housekeeping. The situation suited Sam just fine. He didn’t have to have a front row seat to Dean’s blatant attempts at seducing Chloe, and his exposure to the least charming of Dean’s character quirks was minimized.
Which - actually, come to think of it, made Sam wonder why Dean was interrupting his “me time” as opposed to once again trying to talk Chloe into bed. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Dean gave him a totally unconvincing grin and produced a deck of cards.
“Chloe’s out doing some chick thing that I’m told I don’t want to know about.” Dean shrugged. “So I was wondering how badly I could beat you at Texas Hold ‘em.”
Sam blinked in confusion. Dean was . . . wanting to hang out with him? Sam wasn’t sure what to make of that. They didn’t just . . . hang out. They hunted, or . . . hunted. He must have still looked confused, because Dean smiled one of those wheedling little smiles at him.
“Come on . . . Can Sammy come out to play?”
An amused smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. “You want to play poker with a psychic?”
“Dude, you totally can’t read my mind,” Dean said.
“Says who?” Sam grinned knowingly.
“If you could read my mind, you would totally make that face all the time.”
“What face?”
“You know,” Dean sat down at the table in the corner of the room and started to shuffle the cards. “That face you make whenever I do something you don’t like. The bitchface.”
“The bitchface?” Sam looked at him incredulously.
“I call it like I see it, Sam.” Dean shrugged.
Sam rolled his eyes as he sat down across the table from Dean. That was another thing he enjoyed about separate rooms: lack of 24/7 exposure to Dean’s caustic sense of humor. “I suppose it’s a good thing,” he said. “I wouldn’t want a window into your brain anyway. I’d probably need a lifetime supply of brain bleach.”
“You know, some people think I’m charming,” Dean said as he dealt Sam’s cards to him.
“Some people don’t live with you,” Sam muttered as he picked up the cards and arranged them in his hands.
“Chloe thinks I’m charming.”
“And love is blind.”
There was a long quiet pause. Sam looked up to see Dean giving him a thoughtful look. “You think?”
On so many levels, Sam didn’t know how to respond to that. If he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have said the L word at all. Especially since he had no idea how Dean would take it. Sam was normally really good at reading Dean. But he had a poker face like you wouldn’t believe. And right now, it was firmly in place. Sam couldn’t even get the slightest inkling if he was freaked or not.
And given the way Chloe tried so damn hard not to let people in - Dean freaking out wouldn’t exactly help their relationship.
Sam shrugged in response.
Dean nodded and turned back to his own cards.
***
Physician’s notes as dictated to E-charts, medical charting program.
Miss Sullivan has an extensive medical history with this clinic. She was first referred to Dr. Hixon by a friend, and desired extensive medical testing and help with monitoring health. The patient expressed concerns that she may be a latent metahuman, and that her health might be seriously at risk as a direct result.
She remained a patient at this clinic for approximately four years before metahuman abilities rendered her an aggressive immune system. As a direct result, her visits initially spiked as the repercussions of her new physical state were fully explored, but then gradually tapered off and stopped.
Though questions remain concerning the limitations or lack thereof, of patient’s abilities, we feel confident that the patient will come to us should she experience any major physiological changes.
***
Because she was a self-healing metahuman, Chloe hadn’t needed a doctor in years. Not since the moment that her powers kicked in and she could walk away from a hospital, when by all rights she should have been riding away in a hearse.
Which was fine by her. Given the number of times she’d been caught snooping around evil labs and then thrown to the lions - thank God for alien best friends and their mostly impeccable timing - and then add in her recent memories of Lex’s lab o’ doom, and she wasn’t exactly jumping up and down to go in for regularly scheduled check-ups.
But this time, given the reason she was even at the doctor’s office, she had plenty of excuses to be nervous. It didn’t help that she was supposed to wear one of those little gowns that fastened up the back, and an oversized sheet around her waist. Why they insisted on that - when they knew about her particular condition - was a total mystery to her.
So there she sat - in a completely lacking-of-the-dignity hospital gown and bed sheet, swinging her bare feet like a six-year-old, waiting for the doctor to come in.
Dr. Hixon stuck her head in the door and gave Chloe a sunny smile. “Chloe? I didn’t expect to see you again.”
Chloe shrugged, and gave Dr. Hixon a tiny smile. When she found out about the chance that she was meta, Ollie had found Dr. Hixon for her. The doc was a specialist in unusual physiologies, and actually saw several other members of the Justice League. After she'd actually gotten her abilities, the two women spent the next year off-and-on, exploring the implications of her new powers. Well, most of them anyway. “I wasn’t either, Doc.”
Dr. Hixon gave her a tiny smile and fully entered the room. She adjusted her glasses and looked down at Chloe’s chart. “So . . . I see you’re here about plumbing issues.”
Chloe looked down at her toes and nodded.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Chloe,” The doctor chuckled. “Given your unique physiology, it’s perfectly natural to be concerned about this aspect of your body. And . . . prepared before making any decisions that could impact your future.” She looked up at Chloe and gave her a tiny smile.
“So, I take it that we’ve never settled the question of whether you can, actually, have kids?”
Chloe shrugged. “Given my past experiences with the medical field, you’re really the only doctor that I trust. And once we found out that I wasn’t going to go crazy, and my powers were benign. That was enough information for me.”
Contraception hadn’t been an issue then, because sex had been kind of low-priority. But now, with Dean . . . there looked like there might be sex in the future.
A lot of sex.
And given Dean’s relentless pursuit of her, his amazing, almost encyclopedic knowledge of her body, and her incredibly half-hearted resistance . . . it just might be soon.
Chloe wanted to think that she was strong willed. That she could stick to her guns and hold him at bay. But if Dean were determined enough, he was going to get past her defenses. And he was definitely determined enough.
Hell, it seemed that lately, all he’d have to do is throw her over his shoulder like a pirate kidnapping a wench and carry her off to their room and she was done for.
Not that she’d let him in on that little secret. She was still trying to fend him off. At least for a little longer. At least so that he would try to see in himself the things that Chloe and Sam saw in him, and maybe to give her a little more time to feel secure with him.
But there was no sense in being unprepared. Since she was sure that her reproductive system was just as healthy as the rest of her. And if Dean’s little swimmers met up with her girls, they’d probably go at it just about as hot and heavy as she and Dean were. Which meant that her girls had zero fighting chance in the game of contraception Russian roulette.
And as much as she was coming to care for Dean, she wasn’t ready to inflict a “mini-me” version of him on the world. Even if the kid would be too damn cute and trouble-prone for his own good.
“I suppose that’s a bridge we can cross when you’re ready to take that step,” Dr. Hixon said. “I would like you to submit to some kind of testing in preparation for it - just so we can make sure that a viable fetus could survive your own aggressive immune system. And if not, then if taking an immunosuppressant would help.”
Chloe nodded. “Right now though, I’m more interested in being baby-free,” she said.
“Of course,” The doctor nodded in agreement. “Is your prospective partner aware of your unique physiology?”
Chloe looked down again and nodded.
“You might want to make sure that he has protection with him anyway,” Dr. Hixon said. “Because in your unique situation --barrier protection is going to be the only effective method. And given that you don’t have to worry about STD’s, he may have the mistaken impression that he is off the hook.”
Chloe grinned. “Honestly? I haven’t discussed sex with Dean. I’m afraid that it might be too big a turn-on.”
“He’s a bit relentless then?”
“You have no idea,” Chloe laughed. “Single minded is a good word for it. And that mind is kept in the little head.”
“I would worry if I didn’t know that you were such a responsible woman,” Dr. Hixon frowned.
Chloe knew that by now she was probably tomato red to the tips of her ears. “This is silly,” she muttered. “I’ve seen stuff though my job that is way more embarrassing than this. But talking about sex with my boyfriend, and suddenly it’s like I’m nine and boys have cooties again.”
Dr. Hixon patted her shoulder. “Given that you’re so work-focused and driven, it’s not that surprising.”
“It’s not?” Chloe’s eyes widened in question.
“Not at all,” Dr. Hixon shook her head. “Usually the tough exterior is out there to hide the tender inside.”
For the millionth time that day, Chloe was glad that Dean wasn’t with her. Because a statement like that would be something he would fall on like a live grenade.