Fic: A Potentially Dangerous Impression, SPN/HSM, Sam/Ryan, NC-17 (27/?)
Title: A Potentially Dangerous Impression (part 27 of ?)
Author: SallySimpson
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1373, 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.
Innumerable thanks to zillah975, for pushing me to keep the boys' voices true.
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
In this chapter: As far as Dean's concerned, Ryan and Sharpay need a babysitter- no way should they be fouling up his hunt.
“Christ, Sam. Are you going to look under every damn seat in here?”
“You want to tell me why I shouldn’t?” Sam called back, although the sound was a bit muffled given that he was on his knees ducking his head under one of the theater’s folding seats. One of the seats, in the fourth row from the back. The fourth row. Out of sixty.
Dean groaned but dropped it. Standing center stage, he aimed his flashlight at the rigging above, trying to see... he didn’t know what. Something weird, definitely. These searches were always a pain in the ass anyway. But they were so much friggin’ worse when he and Sam weren’t even quite certain just what they were looking for. Dean knew he tended to be suspicious by nature. But rampant directionless suspicion... that was one short sharp drop from insanity-inducing paranoia. And Dean wasn’t ready to go that crazy just yet.
East High’s theater looked normal enough, at least by his standards. Obviously, Dean’s standards were a bit wacked-out to begin with, but he’d been inside a couple theaters in his time - usually against his will, and no fucking way was he ever going to tell anyone about the friggin’ opera an old girlfriend had dragged him to once - and he was under the impression that they all looked pretty much like this. Lots and lots of seats, the kind that sprang back upright as soon as someone stood up. Gigantic heavy velvet curtains. Hot gel lights shining down from the rafters over the stage, mercifully dark at the moment. All in all, pretty dull.
He shook his head and slipped behind the curtains, stepping carefully over the thick electrical cords that snaked beneath his feet. Speakers, ropes, a couple clipboards, a few loose pieces of paper scattered around, one lonely Sharpie with its cap missing. Typical backstage litter, he figured. But no hex bags, or puddles of blood, or creepy dolls with their heads turned around backwards-nothing that screamed, Yo! Big-ass curse going on over here! He spied a metal ladder bolted to the brick wall and started climbing, figuring the view from the catwalk might be better overall, as it were. He’d only just reached the top when he froze, his ears perked. Quickly he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Sam.
“Yeah, what?” Dean could hear the springs squeaking as Sam peeked beneath yet another of the seats.
“I hear something,” Dean hissed, killing his flashlight and straining to see in the dimness. “I think I hear voices.”
Sam sighed, his exasperation coming through loud and clear. “I swear, Dean, if you make one more Haley Joel joke-“
“No, seriously!” Dean said, cutting him off. “I’m up by the catwalk and I swear I hear-“ he abruptly shut up, because it wasn’t only voices, it was footsteps.
“Dean?”
“Shh,” Dean ordered, and flattened himself against the ladder. Across the stage a light flicked on, illuminating the wings to the sides of the stage. And Dean resisted the temptation - barely - to start banging his head against the brick wall. “Yeah, Sam,” he muttered into the phone, “you need to get your ass up here.”
He hung up and slipped his cell back into his pocket, and watched as the owners of the footsteps approached. Two of them. Both blonde. And both the most fucking irritating stubborn little jackasses Dean could possibly imagine at that moment.
“Well where would they be, Ryan?” Sharpay asked, sounding annoyed. “What are they looking for?”
“Damn it, Shar, I don’t fucking know!” Ryan shot back, following at her heels. Yeah, there was definitely some mutual annoyance going on. Not that Dean didn’t feel like they entirely deserved it. “Sam asked once about the locker room, and then there was the chemistry lab, but then-“
“Ryan, what the fuck?” Sam’s voice was about two octaves too high and a hundred or so decibels too loud, a sure sign that he’d just had a major shock and was Not. Coping.
Startled, Ryan jumped, his gaze fixed on Sam as Sam boosted himself up on the front edge of the stage, then stomped over to them. “Um, we just-“
“No fucking ‘Um we just’!” Sam shouted, getting right in Ryan’s face, and oh crap, Dean could see he was definitely going to need to intervene here before Sam made his little boyfriend cry. “I’ve fucking told you again and again that you need to stay away from school, and so you fucking show up on your day off? What the hell, Ryan!”
“Hey, Sasquatch!” Sharpay snapped, shoving in front of Ryan and glaring right up at Sam. All in all, Dean was impressed. “Back the fuck off!”
“Damn it, you too!” Sam shot back. “Do you think I’m jerking you around? Ryan could get hurt!”
“I’m not going to-“
Sam grabbed Ryan’s shirt and yanked him close, crushing their lips together in what Dean felt was a totally inappropriately-timed kiss. Of course, then in the next instant Sam was shoving him away again. “Shut up! You need to take me seriously, I-“
“All right, enough,” Dean interrupted, climbing halfway down the ladder and then dropping the last few feet to land on the stage with a thud. A thud made by his feet and not his ass for once, thank you very much, and Dean figured it for a pretty cool entrance.
At least it got them all to shut the hell up.
“You’re all idiots, so all of you listen up,” he growled, and ignored the various shades of offense on their faces. “Sharpay, what will it take to get you to grab Ryan and get far far away from here?”
“More than you’ve got,” Sharpay informed him regally, and raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Great. Dean rolled his eyes, although he’d expected no less. He’d been hoping for it, though. “Fine. Stupid,” he added, but then mowed on over her as she started to protest. “Ryan, you go with Sam,” he commanded, and he followed that up by pointing, just in case they were both so brain-dead they couldn’t comprehend any direct orders at all anymore. “Do not fucking leave his side, and I swear I am not shitting you on this. Sam warned you that you’re in danger, and he’s right. So bitch at him all you want but stick close. Sharpay,” he barked, “you’re with me.”
“Excuse me, if you think-“
“Do you seriously think I’ve got a problem with slinging you over my shoulder and chucking you into the parking lot?” Dean asked in disbelief. “Because I totally don’t.”
Sharpay huffed, but Sam cut in before she could reload. “All right, we’ll take the backstage,” he said and took hold of Ryan’s hand. Ryan immediately shook him off and snatched his hand away, and even Dean could see where Sam had gone wrong with that one. “You and Sharpay finish up out here.”
“Finish what?” Sharpay demanded, and Dean tossed her the flashlight, impressed when she reflexively caught it without a fumble.
“We’re hunting ghosts, sweetheart,” he informed her. “Pay attention.”
“Ghosts?” she echoed, clearly not believing a single word.
Ryan groaned. “God, again? I told you, Sam!” he argued, frustrated like they’d been through this before and Sam was the slow one. “It’s just a stupid legend. There’s no such thing as ghosts!”
Sam’s jaw tightened, and he took a slow measured breath before he spoke. “Yeah. Guess what?” he muttered, and at least Ryan had the sense to recognize that question as rhetorical. “You’re wrong about that.”
“You Winchesters are so flippin’-“
“Shush!” Dean snapped, waving Sharpay to silence. Ten feet away, the overhead lamp they’d turned on flickered, buzzing like a swarm of bees as it fritzed out, then switched back on an instant later. Over the twins’ heads, Sam met Dean’s gaze, his eyes dark with worry. And knowledge.
“All right,” Dean whispered, although he knew it didn’t matter one bit to an evil spirit whether he was quiet or not.
And anyway, the spirit obviously already knew they were there.
Dean pulled his EMF meter from his jacket pocket. “Let’s get on it.”
To Chapter 28