A Potentially Dangerous Impression: SPN/HSM, Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans, R (9/?)
Title: A Potentially Dangerous Impression (part 9 of ?)
Author: sally_simpson76
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical (yes, really)
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 1980, 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: The Big Date.
Huge thanks to zillah975 for being awesome.
Back to Part 1
Our players: Sam Winchester, Ryan Evans
Ryan pulled his silver 2008 BMW convertible into the traffic circle in front of the school, and he couldn't help the silly grin that instantly leaped onto his face when he spotted Sam. Sam, who seemed to have actually put some effort into his appearance for once, if his clothing was any indication. Jeans without holes, a wrinkled but clean-looking dress shirt beneath a battered brown leather jacket-- the outfit really didn't work at all, although Ryan was willing to spot him points for trying. And even so... Ryan sighed appreciatively as Sam approached the car and he got a better look at just how tight that shirt was, teasing and showing off Sam's chest in just the right way.
So maybe the outfit did work. A little.
"Hi," he said, leaning over and pushing open the passenger's side door. "I would've picked you up at your house. It's really no problem," Ryan said, picking up from the thread of their brief orienting phone call.
"Nah, it's fine," Sam insisted-- again, and Ryan really had to wonder about that. "This is closer."
"Closer to what?" Ryan asked under his breath, but he wasn't really looking for an answer at this point. Because, truly, did he care? No. Not when Sam was sitting next to him in the cramped space of his sports car, all long legs and crooked grins and an oddly enticing mix of new soap and old leather.
"Can we put the top down?" Sam asked, and Ryan pointed out the control that would automatically fold the roof back. He liked his car, enjoyed the freedom and the style of it, but he absolutely adored the sheer boyish glee Sam took in dropping his head back against the seat and smiling up at the open night sky. "My brother would go crazy over this car," Sam said, cutting into Ryan's thoughts. "He'd start slamming you with all these questions about the engine block and the acceleration and whether it's turbocharged or whatever."
Taking advantage of a red stoplight, Ryan settled his hat more firmly on his head. Then he turned to check out Sam's profile, delighting in that dimple which tantalizingly flashed only now and again, like he'd somehow earned a glimpse of a secret. "Are you into all that car stuff?"
Sam shrugged, slouching against the fine leather seat. "Nah, not really. I mean, I know how to change the oil and do basic maintenance, but only because if I didn't then Dean would die from the shame," he explained. "I'm not obsessive like he is."
"That's good," Ryan said, and breathed a secretive sigh of relief. "Because I couldn't answer any of those questions for you." He flashed a self-deprecating smile, and was rewarded with Sam's laughter, throaty and fresh and making him realize he'd hardly ever heard it before. "You don't laugh often enough."
"Me?" Sam abruptly sobered, and Ryan wanted to kick himself for chasing away that rare honest moment. "I guess I... I guess I'm just pretty serious most of the time."
"Yeah. I guess."
Silence stretched between them for long moments, broken only by the crunch of gravel under the tires as Ryan pulled off the main road and into the foothills. He drove up to the bluffs, parking far enough back from the cliff's edge for safety, but close enough so that the whole of the city spread out before them.
"Wow, you weren't kidding," Sam murmured, the lights of the night horizon reflecting in his eyes as he pulled himself out of his slouch and leaned forward onto the dashboard.
"It's kind of magical, huh?" Ryan felt stupid the second he uttered the words, but he was gratified when Sam didn't snicker at him.
"It is, kind of. I mean, from up here it looks beautiful. Clean." Sam gestured out at the constellation of fairy lights beneath them. His voice grew ponderous. "We're so detached from it all up here. You can't see the danger, or the misery or ugliness."
Watching him, Ryan just had to shake his head. "There you go again," he said softly, and he knew Sam understood when he ducked his head on an abashed smile.
"Yeah. Sorry." Sam shrugged, but his tone of voice didn't sound at all apologetic to Ryan.
"It's not all life and death, Sam," Ryan said with a soft chuckle, then looked over curiously when that earned him a sharp stare. "What?"
"It's just..." Sam's words trailed off, and he drummed his fingers against the dashboard as he stared out at the city. "It sort of is, sometimes."
Something in his voice tugged at Ryan, a distant sadness underlying his words, remote but constant. He reached out and trailed his fingers along Sam's cheek, refusing to pull back when Sam jumped, then froze. "What about just enjoying the moment?" he whispered, leaning closer and tracing the outline of Sam's mouth with his fingertip.
"Ryan, I--" Sam's breath stuttered, warm and just a little too fast against Ryan's fingers. "I can't."
Vague empathy transformed instantly into pain, a sucker punch to Ryan's chest. He swallowed hard and pulled his hand away to rest against the seat back. "Why not?"
"Because, I--" Breaking off, Sam looked at Ryan with honest curiosity plain on his face. "What makes you think I'm gay, anyway?"
Ryan shrugged. "Maybe you're just bi," he said, trying to keep his tone even, casual. "But, whichever, the straight guys don't stare at my mouth whenever I'm talking to them."
"Oh." Sam shook his head, then abruptly lifted his gaze to meet Ryan's eyes. "Still-- I'm too old for you, you already know that," he said, and seemed to force the next words out. "I got held back a few years, remember? You and me, it's-- it wouldn't even be legal."
Ryan blinked, and waited for the rest of the halting explanation. But when no more of it came, he tilted his head to the side. "Are you serious? That's it?" he asked, and chose to interpret Sam's awkward nod-shrug-recoil as a 'yes'. "Don't worry about it," he said softly, and when Sam drew breath to argue, he charged on. "I'm a July birthday, one of the oldest in the class, blah blah. I'm already eighteen."
He waited for a response, but near as he could tell, Sam just looked kind of... stuffed. "Sam?"
"Yeah. Heard you." Sam blew out a deep breath, and still sat frozen.
But frozen meant that at least he wasn't scrambling to get out of the car, either, so Ryan figured it wasn't all bad.
He chewed on his lower lip in a long moment of indecision. And then he went for it, swiftly leaning in and covering Sam's mouth with his own, his hand resting on Sam's ohgodwarm thigh. Sam made a little muffled squeak, but after another second his lips parted beneath the gentle pressure of Ryan's mouth, and Ryan licked in to taste him.
Their tongues rubbed together, sending little sparks of sensation up Ryan's spine, and he lifted his hand to slide along the thin cotton stretched over Sam's chest.
And then it all changed. Ryan's mind blurred, then emptied, all his thoughts of making a move or pushing his luck or getting some-- they just rushed away in a mad wash of color as Sam pressed him back into his seat. Heavy and undeniable and so fucking hot that Ryan was pretty sure he was melting, Sam's hands insistent and roaming, rucking up Ryan's shirt to blaze a trail along his skin. Sam's mouth, hungry and hard and demanding.
Ryan whimpered into the kiss, trying to somehow work himself into a position that wasn't cramped and boxed in between steering wheel and gearshift. And for the first time ever, Ryan despised his car. He managed to slip his hand under Sam's shirt, tracing those muscles he'd spent way too much time furtively admiring in the locker room. But then he felt the hard press of Sam's erection against his thigh and he damn near lost it-- raking his nails down Sam's back and bucking up against him.
"Fuck," Sam panted, his lips wet and hot against Ryan's neck.
"Yes," Ryan agreed, because now would be fine, oh yes--
Sam abruptly pulled away, leaving Ryan breathless and plastered against the door. "What?"
"I. Um." Sam combed his fingers through his shaggy fall of hair, a nervous gesture Ryan had noticed in class a couple of times. "I just-- um. First date and all that."
Ryan stared. His heart was surely pounding hard enough to give him internal bruising, and if Sam did not get right back on top of him now then he was going to get slammed with a first-class diva fit. "What?"
Sam shrugged, then swallowed hard, his Adam's apple working. It nearly distracted Ryan entirely, the taut flesh of his throat so smooth and vulnerable and there and Ryan came so close to climbing into Sam's lap and just licking, except-- except he was really really angry with Sam right now. Right? Yes. Right. "Sam, you can't seriously think that come Monday morning I'm going to go crying about how you took advantage of me," he spat out, privately impressed that he was capable of putting quite so many words together at this moment.
Shaking his head, Sam tried to deny it. "No, it's not-- I didn't think-- I mean--"
Ryan was not having it. Not at all. "So it's your reputation you're so worried about?" He narrowed his eyes, putting as much venom into his glare as he could manage.
And this time Sam just stared, gifting Ryan with the entirely hollow victory of having taken him totally by surprise. "What? No! Ryan, I--"
"Forget it." With chilly dignity Ryan pulled his shirt down, smoothing the wrinkles. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. The smooth sound and faint vibrations had Ryan giving a mental middle finger to Sam's brother, wherever he was, because as long as Sam was being such a prick then Dean was never getting a chance to drive his car.
They drove back to the school in near perfect silence. Once or twice Ryan caught sight of Sam twitching, turning in his seat like he was about to say something... but then he'd always slouch back again, his frown drawing deep grooves around his mouth where he was doomed to have wrinkles. In some not-too-distant future, if karma had anything to do with it-- that was Ryan's silent wish, anyway.
He idled the car by the front courtyard, where the night wind was whipping the lowered flag against the steel pole. Sam climbed out and shut the door behind him, but then he turned back and leaned against the car, his eyes on Ryan.
"What?" One chance, Ryan figured. He'd give Sam this one chance to fix things, but it had damn well better be good.
Sam parted his lips, drew breath like he was preparing to speak, and... "Nothing."
Fine. Ryan gunned the engine and drove away without a look back.
The wind tangled his hair, making him realize that not only did he need to put the top back up... but also that he'd lost his hat, damn it. It must have fallen off his head and out of the car in the mad crush of limbs and searing flesh that Ryan was not thinking about, not.
It was only later - alone in the dark lying on sweat-damp sheets - that Ryan finally let himself fully and viscerally remember the feel of Sam's body pressing so heavily on his, their thighs locked together and Sam's tongue in his mouth, teasing and insistent.
He came with a shudder, and lifted his clean hand to his face to wipe away the angry tears.
To Part 10
Author: sally_simpson76
Fandoms: Supernatural collides with High School Musical (yes, really)
Pairing: Sam Winchester/Ryan Evans
Rating: hard R
Word Count: 1980, 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: The Big Date.
Huge thanks to zillah975 for being awesome.
Back to Part 1
Our players: Sam Winchester, Ryan Evans
Ryan pulled his silver 2008 BMW convertible into the traffic circle in front of the school, and he couldn't help the silly grin that instantly leaped onto his face when he spotted Sam. Sam, who seemed to have actually put some effort into his appearance for once, if his clothing was any indication. Jeans without holes, a wrinkled but clean-looking dress shirt beneath a battered brown leather jacket-- the outfit really didn't work at all, although Ryan was willing to spot him points for trying. And even so... Ryan sighed appreciatively as Sam approached the car and he got a better look at just how tight that shirt was, teasing and showing off Sam's chest in just the right way.
So maybe the outfit did work. A little.
"Hi," he said, leaning over and pushing open the passenger's side door. "I would've picked you up at your house. It's really no problem," Ryan said, picking up from the thread of their brief orienting phone call.
"Nah, it's fine," Sam insisted-- again, and Ryan really had to wonder about that. "This is closer."
"Closer to what?" Ryan asked under his breath, but he wasn't really looking for an answer at this point. Because, truly, did he care? No. Not when Sam was sitting next to him in the cramped space of his sports car, all long legs and crooked grins and an oddly enticing mix of new soap and old leather.
"Can we put the top down?" Sam asked, and Ryan pointed out the control that would automatically fold the roof back. He liked his car, enjoyed the freedom and the style of it, but he absolutely adored the sheer boyish glee Sam took in dropping his head back against the seat and smiling up at the open night sky. "My brother would go crazy over this car," Sam said, cutting into Ryan's thoughts. "He'd start slamming you with all these questions about the engine block and the acceleration and whether it's turbocharged or whatever."
Taking advantage of a red stoplight, Ryan settled his hat more firmly on his head. Then he turned to check out Sam's profile, delighting in that dimple which tantalizingly flashed only now and again, like he'd somehow earned a glimpse of a secret. "Are you into all that car stuff?"
Sam shrugged, slouching against the fine leather seat. "Nah, not really. I mean, I know how to change the oil and do basic maintenance, but only because if I didn't then Dean would die from the shame," he explained. "I'm not obsessive like he is."
"That's good," Ryan said, and breathed a secretive sigh of relief. "Because I couldn't answer any of those questions for you." He flashed a self-deprecating smile, and was rewarded with Sam's laughter, throaty and fresh and making him realize he'd hardly ever heard it before. "You don't laugh often enough."
"Me?" Sam abruptly sobered, and Ryan wanted to kick himself for chasing away that rare honest moment. "I guess I... I guess I'm just pretty serious most of the time."
"Yeah. I guess."
Silence stretched between them for long moments, broken only by the crunch of gravel under the tires as Ryan pulled off the main road and into the foothills. He drove up to the bluffs, parking far enough back from the cliff's edge for safety, but close enough so that the whole of the city spread out before them.
"Wow, you weren't kidding," Sam murmured, the lights of the night horizon reflecting in his eyes as he pulled himself out of his slouch and leaned forward onto the dashboard.
"It's kind of magical, huh?" Ryan felt stupid the second he uttered the words, but he was gratified when Sam didn't snicker at him.
"It is, kind of. I mean, from up here it looks beautiful. Clean." Sam gestured out at the constellation of fairy lights beneath them. His voice grew ponderous. "We're so detached from it all up here. You can't see the danger, or the misery or ugliness."
Watching him, Ryan just had to shake his head. "There you go again," he said softly, and he knew Sam understood when he ducked his head on an abashed smile.
"Yeah. Sorry." Sam shrugged, but his tone of voice didn't sound at all apologetic to Ryan.
"It's not all life and death, Sam," Ryan said with a soft chuckle, then looked over curiously when that earned him a sharp stare. "What?"
"It's just..." Sam's words trailed off, and he drummed his fingers against the dashboard as he stared out at the city. "It sort of is, sometimes."
Something in his voice tugged at Ryan, a distant sadness underlying his words, remote but constant. He reached out and trailed his fingers along Sam's cheek, refusing to pull back when Sam jumped, then froze. "What about just enjoying the moment?" he whispered, leaning closer and tracing the outline of Sam's mouth with his fingertip.
"Ryan, I--" Sam's breath stuttered, warm and just a little too fast against Ryan's fingers. "I can't."
Vague empathy transformed instantly into pain, a sucker punch to Ryan's chest. He swallowed hard and pulled his hand away to rest against the seat back. "Why not?"
"Because, I--" Breaking off, Sam looked at Ryan with honest curiosity plain on his face. "What makes you think I'm gay, anyway?"
Ryan shrugged. "Maybe you're just bi," he said, trying to keep his tone even, casual. "But, whichever, the straight guys don't stare at my mouth whenever I'm talking to them."
"Oh." Sam shook his head, then abruptly lifted his gaze to meet Ryan's eyes. "Still-- I'm too old for you, you already know that," he said, and seemed to force the next words out. "I got held back a few years, remember? You and me, it's-- it wouldn't even be legal."
Ryan blinked, and waited for the rest of the halting explanation. But when no more of it came, he tilted his head to the side. "Are you serious? That's it?" he asked, and chose to interpret Sam's awkward nod-shrug-recoil as a 'yes'. "Don't worry about it," he said softly, and when Sam drew breath to argue, he charged on. "I'm a July birthday, one of the oldest in the class, blah blah. I'm already eighteen."
He waited for a response, but near as he could tell, Sam just looked kind of... stuffed. "Sam?"
"Yeah. Heard you." Sam blew out a deep breath, and still sat frozen.
But frozen meant that at least he wasn't scrambling to get out of the car, either, so Ryan figured it wasn't all bad.
He chewed on his lower lip in a long moment of indecision. And then he went for it, swiftly leaning in and covering Sam's mouth with his own, his hand resting on Sam's ohgodwarm thigh. Sam made a little muffled squeak, but after another second his lips parted beneath the gentle pressure of Ryan's mouth, and Ryan licked in to taste him.
Their tongues rubbed together, sending little sparks of sensation up Ryan's spine, and he lifted his hand to slide along the thin cotton stretched over Sam's chest.
And then it all changed. Ryan's mind blurred, then emptied, all his thoughts of making a move or pushing his luck or getting some-- they just rushed away in a mad wash of color as Sam pressed him back into his seat. Heavy and undeniable and so fucking hot that Ryan was pretty sure he was melting, Sam's hands insistent and roaming, rucking up Ryan's shirt to blaze a trail along his skin. Sam's mouth, hungry and hard and demanding.
Ryan whimpered into the kiss, trying to somehow work himself into a position that wasn't cramped and boxed in between steering wheel and gearshift. And for the first time ever, Ryan despised his car. He managed to slip his hand under Sam's shirt, tracing those muscles he'd spent way too much time furtively admiring in the locker room. But then he felt the hard press of Sam's erection against his thigh and he damn near lost it-- raking his nails down Sam's back and bucking up against him.
"Fuck," Sam panted, his lips wet and hot against Ryan's neck.
"Yes," Ryan agreed, because now would be fine, oh yes--
Sam abruptly pulled away, leaving Ryan breathless and plastered against the door. "What?"
"I. Um." Sam combed his fingers through his shaggy fall of hair, a nervous gesture Ryan had noticed in class a couple of times. "I just-- um. First date and all that."
Ryan stared. His heart was surely pounding hard enough to give him internal bruising, and if Sam did not get right back on top of him now then he was going to get slammed with a first-class diva fit. "What?"
Sam shrugged, then swallowed hard, his Adam's apple working. It nearly distracted Ryan entirely, the taut flesh of his throat so smooth and vulnerable and there and Ryan came so close to climbing into Sam's lap and just licking, except-- except he was really really angry with Sam right now. Right? Yes. Right. "Sam, you can't seriously think that come Monday morning I'm going to go crying about how you took advantage of me," he spat out, privately impressed that he was capable of putting quite so many words together at this moment.
Shaking his head, Sam tried to deny it. "No, it's not-- I didn't think-- I mean--"
Ryan was not having it. Not at all. "So it's your reputation you're so worried about?" He narrowed his eyes, putting as much venom into his glare as he could manage.
And this time Sam just stared, gifting Ryan with the entirely hollow victory of having taken him totally by surprise. "What? No! Ryan, I--"
"Forget it." With chilly dignity Ryan pulled his shirt down, smoothing the wrinkles. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. The smooth sound and faint vibrations had Ryan giving a mental middle finger to Sam's brother, wherever he was, because as long as Sam was being such a prick then Dean was never getting a chance to drive his car.
They drove back to the school in near perfect silence. Once or twice Ryan caught sight of Sam twitching, turning in his seat like he was about to say something... but then he'd always slouch back again, his frown drawing deep grooves around his mouth where he was doomed to have wrinkles. In some not-too-distant future, if karma had anything to do with it-- that was Ryan's silent wish, anyway.
He idled the car by the front courtyard, where the night wind was whipping the lowered flag against the steel pole. Sam climbed out and shut the door behind him, but then he turned back and leaned against the car, his eyes on Ryan.
"What?" One chance, Ryan figured. He'd give Sam this one chance to fix things, but it had damn well better be good.
Sam parted his lips, drew breath like he was preparing to speak, and... "Nothing."
Fine. Ryan gunned the engine and drove away without a look back.
The wind tangled his hair, making him realize that not only did he need to put the top back up... but also that he'd lost his hat, damn it. It must have fallen off his head and out of the car in the mad crush of limbs and searing flesh that Ryan was not thinking about, not.
It was only later - alone in the dark lying on sweat-damp sheets - that Ryan finally let himself fully and viscerally remember the feel of Sam's body pressing so heavily on his, their thighs locked together and Sam's tongue in his mouth, teasing and insistent.
He came with a shudder, and lifted his clean hand to his face to wipe away the angry tears.
To Part 10