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longsufferingly) wrote2009-11-13 03:37 pm
longsufferingly) wrote2009-11-13 03:37 pm
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This is 509 fic, pairing and title are spoilers, so the information is under a cut.
Four Times Becky Called Chuck, and One Time He Called Her
pre-Chuck/Becky (there's such a thing as preslash, but is there such a thing as prehet? Do people say that?), 1250 words.
i.
The first time Becky called Chuck, he was a little wasted.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Chuck, oh my god, thank goodness! I need your help. It is life or death."
He straightened up, rubbed the weariness from his eyes, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "What is it? What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Okay, so my beta, samalamadingdong? She's the sweetest girl in the world but her mom found out that she's dating a girl she met online and her mom flipped out because she thinks everyone on the internet is crazy or something, so she's not allowed to go online at all and--"
"Becky," said Chuck, as gently as he could. "Is there somewhere you're going with this, because I have a lot of work to do--"
"My story," she says, "for the Sam-n-Dean-Summer-of-Love Challenge is due tomorrow and I don't have a beta."
"I don't know what that is."
"I need someone to read my story!"
"Your what?"
"My fanfic," she said, enunciating clearly. "It's for drivers_music and she's amazing and I can't give it to her without someone else having betaed it, I can't."
"You want me to read your story about Sam and Dean having sex?"
"It's not very graphic," she said dismissively. "It's about love, Chuck. It's only 2000 words!"
Chuck looked at his own story, which was stalling. He was trying to write about something other than Sam and Dean, something he'd actually made up, and so far all he had was "Bill did not hunt the undead. Bill loved flyfishing."
"Sure," he said. "Why not. Send it over."
"Ohmygod, thank you. I already loved you more than J. K. Rowling, even if she did give me the amazing canon gay love of Dumbledore and Gridelwald, but now I love you even more."
"Great," said Chuck, but weirdly, it did make him feel better. He paused. "You don't like Stephanie Meyer, do you?"
"Please," she said, "that hack? No way. Sam and Dean would destroy Edward Cullen and his stupid sparkly face."
"Yeah," said Chuck. "Yeah, they would."
The weirdest part was? The story wasn't half bad. And her Sam was spot on.
ii.
"How would you feel about a convention?"
"Hi, Becky, nice to hear from you too," said Chuck. "I'm doing great, by the way. Really."
"Me too! It's so good that we're friends now."
Chuck sniffed his milk and tried not to think about the fact that Becky probably was the best friend he had right now. No one else ever called him. "Yeah," he said, worryingly honestly.
"Anyway, I was talking to Fritz--do you know Fritz?"
"No."
"He's totally obnoxious and self-righteous, and he thinks Dean should have married Cassie and left Sam behind to die."
"Like that would've gone well," Chuck said, deciding that archangels probably wouldn't let him die of milk poisoning.
"Exactly! Dean and Sam can't live without each other! They need to be together."
"Becky," said Chuck. "The point?"
"Fritz and I think there should be a Supernatural fan convention."
"What is that?"
"You know, where fans get together and hang out and talk about the books."
"Oh," said Chuck. "Yeah, I can't see how that would possibly go badly."
"I know! It's going to be so awesome. And I might have told him that I had an in."
Chuck had a terrible feeling about this. "An in?"
"With you!"
"Oh god."
"Just think about it," said Becky.
"Yeah. Sure. Definitely."
iii.
Chuck contemplated not picking up.
"Hi, Becky," he finally said. No one else had called him since the last time. He didn't really have enough friends he could isolate one. And it was kind of--nice. He didn't have a lot of happiness in his life. It was all Winchesters and the apocalypse and drinking himself to sleep every night. And Becky wasn't any of those things.
"Chuck," she wailed, drawn out and sad, and shit--she was crying.
"What? What is it? What's wrong? Did someone leave you a nasty review, because, seriously, you've got to just ignore those, they're--"
"My cat," she said, "he got--he got hit by a car."
It was such a real thing. The kind of thing that people got sad about. Nothing about Supernatural, not heaven and hell and all that. Just a person who was sad.
"Hey, hey," he said gently. "God, I'm so sorry. What--"
"I know I shouldn't have called," she said, "but I--my roommate's out of town with her boyfriend, and most of my friends from college all went to different places, and I don't know anyone online who--I just didn't know who to call and then there you were in the phone and I--"
"I don't mind," he said, "really, I don't." He swallowed. "What can I do?"
"I just needed to talk to someone," she said.
"What should I talk about?"
"Anything," she said. "I don't care."
"Okay," he said. "Yeah. I can do that."
*
It was three weeks before she called again, and every day, he thought today, and every day it wasn't. And every day he thought he should call her, but he didn't know what to say, because she had other people, and he didn't. She had a life and friends, and she was probably out with them, getting better, and he was alone in a dark house with a bottle of whiskey, and she wouldn't even like him except that he was channeling her dream man.
He picked up on the first ring. "Becky, hi."
"I am so sorry about the other day, and I should have called to thank you, I was just embarrassed," she said. "I mean, who does that? And you were so sweet, so, thank you."
"No, I don't mind," he said, and meant it. "Um, how are you feeling?"
"Okay. It's--he was a pretty old cat, so it wasn't as bad as--I'd just had him for so long, you know? I mean, through my parents' divorce and--you don't need to know that. I'm calling about the convention."
"Oh," he said. He wanted to hear more about her. "Yeah, um. When?"
"You'll do it?"
"You're going to have to protect me," he said. "You'll be there, right?"
"Of course, silly, I'm only Sam Winchester's biggest fan!"
My biggest fan, he wanted to say. "Yeah."
"Do you think they'd come?"
"What?"
"Sam and Dean! Do you think they'd come?"
"Oh. No. That would--I'm already breaking the fourth wall enough. If I put in a convention, they'd have to go, and it'd just--it'd be too weird. You're already in there, I don't think--"
"I'm," she said, "I'm in there?"
"Well, yeah, you're kind of important to--"
She made a sound he wasn't sure should be possible to make. "This is so cool!"
"Yeah," he said.
"Chuck, you are the best I love you so much."
And Chuck felt something he hadn't felt in a while, directly followed by nausea and terror.
"Get me the dates," he managed. "Bye."
v.
Today, Chuck told himself. He was going to ask her out. He was just going to call her up and say--
"Chuck! Omigosh! What is it?"
"Hi," he managed. "Becky."
"Is everything okay? Are you still coming? Is there a problem? Does Sam need me?"
He made a kind of weird choking noise. "Um. Bye." He hung up and stared at the phone. "Well. That went well."
Four Times Becky Called Chuck, and One Time He Called Her
pre-Chuck/Becky (there's such a thing as preslash, but is there such a thing as prehet? Do people say that?), 1250 words.
i.
The first time Becky called Chuck, he was a little wasted.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Chuck, oh my god, thank goodness! I need your help. It is life or death."
He straightened up, rubbed the weariness from his eyes, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "What is it? What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Okay, so my beta, samalamadingdong? She's the sweetest girl in the world but her mom found out that she's dating a girl she met online and her mom flipped out because she thinks everyone on the internet is crazy or something, so she's not allowed to go online at all and--"
"Becky," said Chuck, as gently as he could. "Is there somewhere you're going with this, because I have a lot of work to do--"
"My story," she says, "for the Sam-n-Dean-Summer-of-Love Challenge is due tomorrow and I don't have a beta."
"I don't know what that is."
"I need someone to read my story!"
"Your what?"
"My fanfic," she said, enunciating clearly. "It's for drivers_music and she's amazing and I can't give it to her without someone else having betaed it, I can't."
"You want me to read your story about Sam and Dean having sex?"
"It's not very graphic," she said dismissively. "It's about love, Chuck. It's only 2000 words!"
Chuck looked at his own story, which was stalling. He was trying to write about something other than Sam and Dean, something he'd actually made up, and so far all he had was "Bill did not hunt the undead. Bill loved flyfishing."
"Sure," he said. "Why not. Send it over."
"Ohmygod, thank you. I already loved you more than J. K. Rowling, even if she did give me the amazing canon gay love of Dumbledore and Gridelwald, but now I love you even more."
"Great," said Chuck, but weirdly, it did make him feel better. He paused. "You don't like Stephanie Meyer, do you?"
"Please," she said, "that hack? No way. Sam and Dean would destroy Edward Cullen and his stupid sparkly face."
"Yeah," said Chuck. "Yeah, they would."
The weirdest part was? The story wasn't half bad. And her Sam was spot on.
ii.
"How would you feel about a convention?"
"Hi, Becky, nice to hear from you too," said Chuck. "I'm doing great, by the way. Really."
"Me too! It's so good that we're friends now."
Chuck sniffed his milk and tried not to think about the fact that Becky probably was the best friend he had right now. No one else ever called him. "Yeah," he said, worryingly honestly.
"Anyway, I was talking to Fritz--do you know Fritz?"
"No."
"He's totally obnoxious and self-righteous, and he thinks Dean should have married Cassie and left Sam behind to die."
"Like that would've gone well," Chuck said, deciding that archangels probably wouldn't let him die of milk poisoning.
"Exactly! Dean and Sam can't live without each other! They need to be together."
"Becky," said Chuck. "The point?"
"Fritz and I think there should be a Supernatural fan convention."
"What is that?"
"You know, where fans get together and hang out and talk about the books."
"Oh," said Chuck. "Yeah, I can't see how that would possibly go badly."
"I know! It's going to be so awesome. And I might have told him that I had an in."
Chuck had a terrible feeling about this. "An in?"
"With you!"
"Oh god."
"Just think about it," said Becky.
"Yeah. Sure. Definitely."
iii.
Chuck contemplated not picking up.
"Hi, Becky," he finally said. No one else had called him since the last time. He didn't really have enough friends he could isolate one. And it was kind of--nice. He didn't have a lot of happiness in his life. It was all Winchesters and the apocalypse and drinking himself to sleep every night. And Becky wasn't any of those things.
"Chuck," she wailed, drawn out and sad, and shit--she was crying.
"What? What is it? What's wrong? Did someone leave you a nasty review, because, seriously, you've got to just ignore those, they're--"
"My cat," she said, "he got--he got hit by a car."
It was such a real thing. The kind of thing that people got sad about. Nothing about Supernatural, not heaven and hell and all that. Just a person who was sad.
"Hey, hey," he said gently. "God, I'm so sorry. What--"
"I know I shouldn't have called," she said, "but I--my roommate's out of town with her boyfriend, and most of my friends from college all went to different places, and I don't know anyone online who--I just didn't know who to call and then there you were in the phone and I--"
"I don't mind," he said, "really, I don't." He swallowed. "What can I do?"
"I just needed to talk to someone," she said.
"What should I talk about?"
"Anything," she said. "I don't care."
"Okay," he said. "Yeah. I can do that."
*
It was three weeks before she called again, and every day, he thought today, and every day it wasn't. And every day he thought he should call her, but he didn't know what to say, because she had other people, and he didn't. She had a life and friends, and she was probably out with them, getting better, and he was alone in a dark house with a bottle of whiskey, and she wouldn't even like him except that he was channeling her dream man.
He picked up on the first ring. "Becky, hi."
"I am so sorry about the other day, and I should have called to thank you, I was just embarrassed," she said. "I mean, who does that? And you were so sweet, so, thank you."
"No, I don't mind," he said, and meant it. "Um, how are you feeling?"
"Okay. It's--he was a pretty old cat, so it wasn't as bad as--I'd just had him for so long, you know? I mean, through my parents' divorce and--you don't need to know that. I'm calling about the convention."
"Oh," he said. He wanted to hear more about her. "Yeah, um. When?"
"You'll do it?"
"You're going to have to protect me," he said. "You'll be there, right?"
"Of course, silly, I'm only Sam Winchester's biggest fan!"
My biggest fan, he wanted to say. "Yeah."
"Do you think they'd come?"
"What?"
"Sam and Dean! Do you think they'd come?"
"Oh. No. That would--I'm already breaking the fourth wall enough. If I put in a convention, they'd have to go, and it'd just--it'd be too weird. You're already in there, I don't think--"
"I'm," she said, "I'm in there?"
"Well, yeah, you're kind of important to--"
She made a sound he wasn't sure should be possible to make. "This is so cool!"
"Yeah," he said.
"Chuck, you are the best I love you so much."
And Chuck felt something he hadn't felt in a while, directly followed by nausea and terror.
"Get me the dates," he managed. "Bye."
v.
Today, Chuck told himself. He was going to ask her out. He was just going to call her up and say--
"Chuck! Omigosh! What is it?"
"Hi," he managed. "Becky."
"Is everything okay? Are you still coming? Is there a problem? Does Sam need me?"
He made a kind of weird choking noise. "Um. Bye." He hung up and stared at the phone. "Well. That went well."