A Potentially Dangerous Impression: SPN/HSM, Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans, R (7/?)
Title: A Potentially Dangerous Impression (part 7 of ?)
Author: sally_simpson76
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical (yes, really)
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,450, 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.
In this chapter: Ryan finally gives Sam the information he needs... and a little something more.
Huge thanks to zillah975for being so awesome.
Back to Part 1
Our players: Sam Winchester, Ryan Evans, Dean Winchester
"Boys' bathroom, second floor," Sam muttered. He'd spread the blueprints flat on the low brick wall outside the school's front courtyard, and now touched his fingertip to the spots where the bodies had been found, one by one. "Biology lab. Front lobby... damn it! It doesn't make sense, there's no fucking pattern!" He ground his teeth together and then looked up at a sudden flash of baby blue in his peripheral vision. "Oh. Hi."
"Hi." Ryan was looking at him warily, like he was still deciding whether or not it was safe to approach.
"Hi," Sam repeated, too busy thinking, You're wearing a pink hat and you think I'm the dangerous one? "Sorry, did I scare you?"
"Maybe a little." Still rigid with caution, Ryan took a seat on the low wall a few feet away from Sam. "Do you always talk to yourself?"
"Huh? Oh, no." Sam shook his head. "I'm just-- brainstorming. Usually I've got my brother to talk to when I'm thinking out loud, but he's not here right now, so..." Sam abruptly cut himself off, realizing that he was babbling. And he forced himself to look away from Ryan's mouth.
"I'm here." Ryan shrugged. "You can brainstorm to me, if you want."
God, no, go away, go away fast, before I do something really really stupid.... "You'd do that? I mean, no. Thanks, but-- I can't."
"Oh, okay. Top secret evil mastermind stuff, huh?"
There was a twinkle in Ryan's blue eyes. And it made Sam feel like even more of an idiot. "Sorry. No, it's just... I don't know." He scratched his head and gave Ryan a curious look. Maybe.... "Okay, see, here's the thing," he said, turning to straddle the wall so he could face Ryan. "Before I transferred here I kept hearing all these weird rumors about East High. Like, that it's, I don't know, haunted or something, and there's this evil spirit that keeps coming back to attack the students every twelve years." The mix of truth and lies spilled from Sam's lips with a near-desperate quality, imbued with all his frustration at spending a friggin' week dealing with polynomial equations and bad Shakespeare explications and still coming up with nothing. He looked at Ryan hopefully. "Have you ever heard about anything like that?"
"Oh, you mean like Minnie Winslow," Ryan replied, his demeanor as casual as if they were chatting about the weather.
"Who?"
"Minnie Winslow," Ryan repeated, tucking his right leg under him so he could face Sam. "The school ghost."
WhatWhatWhat??? Sam's brain exploded in a clash of color and noise, and all he could do was stare. "Wait. You have-- you have a ghost?" he demanded, his fist clenching in the blueprint and crumpling it before he forced himself to let go. "And nobody told me?"
But, oh crap, Ryan was staring at him again. Yeah, Sam knew that stare, that Holy crap you are certifiable stare. He'd only seen it about five hundred times before.
"Um. Sorry?" Ryan's lips pursed - Sam suddenly found a nearby tree intensely interesting - and he exhaled a thoughtful breath. "Oh! That's why you've been asking all those bizarre questions!"
"Yeah! I mean, I asked you about it the very first day!" Sam exclaimed, turning back to look at Ryan, and praying he didn't seem ridiculously needy. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You asked me if the boys' locker room is haunted," Ryan pointed out, his tone puzzled.
"Yes, exactly!"
"Well... it's not. I mean, come on. It's just a story, you know? One of those bullshit legends the upperclassmen lay on the incoming freshmen each year. Like, the secret dungeon beneath the theater. Or the Jacuzzi on the roof," Ryan explained. "Whenever weird shit happens at the school - I mean really weird - people always say, 'Oh, it must be Minnie Winslow again.' Like that."
"But-- wait." Sam dug a pen out of his pocket and scrawled the name at the bottom of the blueprints. "Who was she?"
"Oh, she was this girl who got killed on campus. Like, a year or so after the school was built. Creepy story," Ryan said, but shrugged it off. "Anyway, people always figure her for our ghost. You know, like, a tortured spirit trapped in our space and time, doing crazy stuff so people will notice her. You know?"
"Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept." Sam exhaled a slow deliberate breath, then carefully drew it back in. Here it was. His big source of information, right within arm's reach all this time, distracting him with sunshine-blond hair and that cover boy smile and those mouth-wateringly tight designer jeans. Fuck. Sam's hands twitched.
He was going to kill Ryan.
"How weird?" he asked, so quietly that Ryan immediately leaned in closer.
"Sorry, what?"
"Weird, Ryan!" The boy recoiled and Sam instantly tried to tone it down. "You said when really weird stuff happens around here, they blame it on her ghost. So, what kind of stuff?"
"Oh. Just... you know, when the burners in the chem lab ignite by themselves. Or sometimes at night when most everyone's gone, you can hear these strange thumping sounds on the stairs, like there's someone following you but you turn around and no one's there," Ryan explained, his posture relaxing again. "Or last year when the refrigerator in the AP biology class defrosted all of a sudden one night, and all the fetal pigs were in it-- now that was nasty."
Fetal pigs, Sam scrawled in the margin of the blueprints, then shook his head at what he'd just written. "Um, okay. Does anyone ever get nervous about these things? I mean, you make it sound like they happen kind of frequently."
"Well, yeah. Usually Minnie gets blamed for something a few times a year, I'd guess," Ryan replied, and gave Sam a tentative smile. "And of course Ms. Darbus gets totally superstitious about it. She won't even let us read the Scottish play aloud in drama class, much less actually perform it on stage."
Sam blinked at the sharp left turn. "The-- wait, the what?"
"The Scottish play. You know the one."
Sam searched his brain, then shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so."
"You do," Ryan insisted. "You know, by Shakespeare? With the king, and the witches--"
"Oh, Macbeth!" Sam exclaimed, wondering why the hell Ryan didn't just say so in the first place.
"Fuck, don't let her hear you say that!" Ryan laughed, but Sam caught the way he suddenly glanced over his shoulder. Like he was actually nervous about it.
"Oookay. I guess that must be one of those theater things," Sam decided, and chuckled. The smile he got in return was so bright it nearly blinded him, and he instantly remembered he needed to keep things all business. "Um. So." He cleared his throat, and started over. "Noises and... unexplainable events, got it. But does anyone ever get hurt?"
"Hurt?" Ryan echoed, and looked at Sam like he wasn't quite sure he was getting the joke. "By a ghost?"
"Yeah."
That something that had flared so brightly in Ryan's eyes seemed to die away, and Sam felt inexplicably disappointed. "Do you believe in aliens too?" Ryan asked after a moment.
"Aliens? No." Sam could have elaborated with a whole long list of just what he did and did not believe in, but it didn't seem like Ryan was ready for the whole True Confessions bit yet.
Ryan nodded and let out a sigh of what might have been relief. "All right. So, do you want to go out tonight?"
Sam sat dumbstruck, and it took several seconds for his brain to get back in gear. "Go out tonight?"
"Yeah," Ryan answered, and added, "It's Friday. Are you busy?"
"Busy?" Sam swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, and he could only sit frozen as Ryan shifted over until he was close enough that Sam caught the light scent of his cologne.
"As in, not available," Ryan murmured, then took a deep breath before continuing. "You're new to town. I thought maybe I could show you around. There's this great isolated spot in the foothills--" Ryan waved his hand in a vague westward motion, "where we can look out over the whole city."
Go out. Isolated. Tonight. The words slammed back and forth in Sam's brain and he sucked in a deep breath, ready to babble excuses about homework he needed to catch up on, socks he needed to wash, a stray exorcism he had to perform. "Yeah, sure," he said instead, shocking even himself.
A smile bright as sunrise spread across Ryan's face. "Great. I'll pick you up."
To Part 8
Author: sally_simpson76
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical (yes, really)
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,450, 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.
In this chapter: Ryan finally gives Sam the information he needs... and a little something more.
Huge thanks to zillah975for being so awesome.
Back to Part 1
Our players: Sam Winchester, Ryan Evans, Dean Winchester
"Boys' bathroom, second floor," Sam muttered. He'd spread the blueprints flat on the low brick wall outside the school's front courtyard, and now touched his fingertip to the spots where the bodies had been found, one by one. "Biology lab. Front lobby... damn it! It doesn't make sense, there's no fucking pattern!" He ground his teeth together and then looked up at a sudden flash of baby blue in his peripheral vision. "Oh. Hi."
"Hi." Ryan was looking at him warily, like he was still deciding whether or not it was safe to approach.
"Hi," Sam repeated, too busy thinking, You're wearing a pink hat and you think I'm the dangerous one? "Sorry, did I scare you?"
"Maybe a little." Still rigid with caution, Ryan took a seat on the low wall a few feet away from Sam. "Do you always talk to yourself?"
"Huh? Oh, no." Sam shook his head. "I'm just-- brainstorming. Usually I've got my brother to talk to when I'm thinking out loud, but he's not here right now, so..." Sam abruptly cut himself off, realizing that he was babbling. And he forced himself to look away from Ryan's mouth.
"I'm here." Ryan shrugged. "You can brainstorm to me, if you want."
God, no, go away, go away fast, before I do something really really stupid.... "You'd do that? I mean, no. Thanks, but-- I can't."
"Oh, okay. Top secret evil mastermind stuff, huh?"
There was a twinkle in Ryan's blue eyes. And it made Sam feel like even more of an idiot. "Sorry. No, it's just... I don't know." He scratched his head and gave Ryan a curious look. Maybe.... "Okay, see, here's the thing," he said, turning to straddle the wall so he could face Ryan. "Before I transferred here I kept hearing all these weird rumors about East High. Like, that it's, I don't know, haunted or something, and there's this evil spirit that keeps coming back to attack the students every twelve years." The mix of truth and lies spilled from Sam's lips with a near-desperate quality, imbued with all his frustration at spending a friggin' week dealing with polynomial equations and bad Shakespeare explications and still coming up with nothing. He looked at Ryan hopefully. "Have you ever heard about anything like that?"
"Oh, you mean like Minnie Winslow," Ryan replied, his demeanor as casual as if they were chatting about the weather.
"Who?"
"Minnie Winslow," Ryan repeated, tucking his right leg under him so he could face Sam. "The school ghost."
WhatWhatWhat??? Sam's brain exploded in a clash of color and noise, and all he could do was stare. "Wait. You have-- you have a ghost?" he demanded, his fist clenching in the blueprint and crumpling it before he forced himself to let go. "And nobody told me?"
But, oh crap, Ryan was staring at him again. Yeah, Sam knew that stare, that Holy crap you are certifiable stare. He'd only seen it about five hundred times before.
"Um. Sorry?" Ryan's lips pursed - Sam suddenly found a nearby tree intensely interesting - and he exhaled a thoughtful breath. "Oh! That's why you've been asking all those bizarre questions!"
"Yeah! I mean, I asked you about it the very first day!" Sam exclaimed, turning back to look at Ryan, and praying he didn't seem ridiculously needy. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You asked me if the boys' locker room is haunted," Ryan pointed out, his tone puzzled.
"Yes, exactly!"
"Well... it's not. I mean, come on. It's just a story, you know? One of those bullshit legends the upperclassmen lay on the incoming freshmen each year. Like, the secret dungeon beneath the theater. Or the Jacuzzi on the roof," Ryan explained. "Whenever weird shit happens at the school - I mean really weird - people always say, 'Oh, it must be Minnie Winslow again.' Like that."
"But-- wait." Sam dug a pen out of his pocket and scrawled the name at the bottom of the blueprints. "Who was she?"
"Oh, she was this girl who got killed on campus. Like, a year or so after the school was built. Creepy story," Ryan said, but shrugged it off. "Anyway, people always figure her for our ghost. You know, like, a tortured spirit trapped in our space and time, doing crazy stuff so people will notice her. You know?"
"Yeah, I'm familiar with the concept." Sam exhaled a slow deliberate breath, then carefully drew it back in. Here it was. His big source of information, right within arm's reach all this time, distracting him with sunshine-blond hair and that cover boy smile and those mouth-wateringly tight designer jeans. Fuck. Sam's hands twitched.
He was going to kill Ryan.
"How weird?" he asked, so quietly that Ryan immediately leaned in closer.
"Sorry, what?"
"Weird, Ryan!" The boy recoiled and Sam instantly tried to tone it down. "You said when really weird stuff happens around here, they blame it on her ghost. So, what kind of stuff?"
"Oh. Just... you know, when the burners in the chem lab ignite by themselves. Or sometimes at night when most everyone's gone, you can hear these strange thumping sounds on the stairs, like there's someone following you but you turn around and no one's there," Ryan explained, his posture relaxing again. "Or last year when the refrigerator in the AP biology class defrosted all of a sudden one night, and all the fetal pigs were in it-- now that was nasty."
Fetal pigs, Sam scrawled in the margin of the blueprints, then shook his head at what he'd just written. "Um, okay. Does anyone ever get nervous about these things? I mean, you make it sound like they happen kind of frequently."
"Well, yeah. Usually Minnie gets blamed for something a few times a year, I'd guess," Ryan replied, and gave Sam a tentative smile. "And of course Ms. Darbus gets totally superstitious about it. She won't even let us read the Scottish play aloud in drama class, much less actually perform it on stage."
Sam blinked at the sharp left turn. "The-- wait, the what?"
"The Scottish play. You know the one."
Sam searched his brain, then shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so."
"You do," Ryan insisted. "You know, by Shakespeare? With the king, and the witches--"
"Oh, Macbeth!" Sam exclaimed, wondering why the hell Ryan didn't just say so in the first place.
"Fuck, don't let her hear you say that!" Ryan laughed, but Sam caught the way he suddenly glanced over his shoulder. Like he was actually nervous about it.
"Oookay. I guess that must be one of those theater things," Sam decided, and chuckled. The smile he got in return was so bright it nearly blinded him, and he instantly remembered he needed to keep things all business. "Um. So." He cleared his throat, and started over. "Noises and... unexplainable events, got it. But does anyone ever get hurt?"
"Hurt?" Ryan echoed, and looked at Sam like he wasn't quite sure he was getting the joke. "By a ghost?"
"Yeah."
That something that had flared so brightly in Ryan's eyes seemed to die away, and Sam felt inexplicably disappointed. "Do you believe in aliens too?" Ryan asked after a moment.
"Aliens? No." Sam could have elaborated with a whole long list of just what he did and did not believe in, but it didn't seem like Ryan was ready for the whole True Confessions bit yet.
Ryan nodded and let out a sigh of what might have been relief. "All right. So, do you want to go out tonight?"
Sam sat dumbstruck, and it took several seconds for his brain to get back in gear. "Go out tonight?"
"Yeah," Ryan answered, and added, "It's Friday. Are you busy?"
"Busy?" Sam swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, and he could only sit frozen as Ryan shifted over until he was close enough that Sam caught the light scent of his cologne.
"As in, not available," Ryan murmured, then took a deep breath before continuing. "You're new to town. I thought maybe I could show you around. There's this great isolated spot in the foothills--" Ryan waved his hand in a vague westward motion, "where we can look out over the whole city."
Go out. Isolated. Tonight. The words slammed back and forth in Sam's brain and he sucked in a deep breath, ready to babble excuses about homework he needed to catch up on, socks he needed to wash, a stray exorcism he had to perform. "Yeah, sure," he said instead, shocking even himself.
A smile bright as sunrise spread across Ryan's face. "Great. I'll pick you up."
To Part 8