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tiptoe39Title: Wipe off that angel face (and go back to high school)
Volume 2: You Gotta Be Honestly Sincere (Chapter 1 of 4)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tiptoe39
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam/Gabriel High school AU. WIP. Done through twitfic / twitlonger. Thanks tojabber_moose for an amazing title!!
Volume 1: Bully and the Beast
One | Two | Three
AUDITIONS.
Despite the neon pink paper and the huge, blocky font, Gabriel nearly walks right by it. It's Sam who lingers by the bulletin board. "Hey," he muses, "you should do this."
Gabriel walks backward a few steps. "Do what-- OW," he declares, shielding his eyes. "Someone needs to turn down the volume on that paper. Geez."
"It is a little terrifying," Sam agrees with a short laugh. "But seriously. You're so good at acting, you should try out."
Gabriel blows air through his lips. "I don't think so," he says.
"Why not?"
"That is a musical." Gabriel's index finger lands on the other bold-faced phrase - BYE BYE BIRDIE - "and I am not a singer."
"There are parts where you don't have to sing." Sam shrugs. "You could at least try."
"Hmrmmrmhghm," Gabriel says.
Sam frowns. "What?" Gabriel's silent, and Sam shuffles closer. "What's wrong?"
Gabriel's eyes dart back and forth, as though afraid he'll be heard. He leans toward Sam. "What if I go there," he says, "and I make a fool of myself, and I don't get in? Or what if I get in, and then the curtain goes up, and I freeze and can't move? In front of the entire school?"
Sam laughs. "Dude. So what? Besides, you don't have any trouble making a fool of yourself in front of me."
"Yeah, but you're different."
Sam looks him over. "No, I'm not," he says seriously. "You're talented, Gabe. You should try out. Tell me you'll at least think about it."
Gabriel mutters agreement. Honestly, he's afraid if he thinks about it, he won't be able to think about anything else. His blood is rushing through his body right now, and a little voice is singing in his head: wouldn't it be nice if....?
He doodles stick figures on stages for the rest of the day and tries to squelch the improbable dreams that have suddenly taken over his head.
Gabriel thinks about it. A lot. Auditions? Auditions mean possible rejection. And then rehearsal, and a lot of work, and maybe sucking, and then a performance, and then maybe sucking at that, and then feeling like shit. He runs through that litany about seven hundred times, and it is still not enough to break the hold that the concept has on him. Damn Sam for even bringing it up, because now Gabriel's sold. He's gonna have to put himself out there. It's going to happen.
He sneaks into the drama teacher's room after class. Ms. Moseley is big, black, and dangerous, and she never fails to look like a walking, talking vat of chocolate. Gabriel likes her, despite never having taken one of her classes. And inexplicably, she knows his name.
"Mister Archer. Gabriel, isn't it?" she says without turning around. "Well, I've been wondering if Lucy's little brother was ever going to follow in his footsteps."
"Lucy?" Gabriel's older brother's name is Luke.
"Oh, that was just a bit of good-natured teasing," Ms. Moseley says. "He was such a bleeding heart, your brother was. Didn't want to hurt a fly." She turns and faces him, and Gabriel immediately feels as though he's in the kitchen of someone's grandmother about to get fed a stack of pancakes. Is that racist? he wonders vaguely.
"Oh, I'm a lot more than Aunt Jemima," she declares, and Gabriel is now officially unsettled. He squirms in his shoes. "So have you come to ask about the auditions, then? If you're anything like Lucy was, I think you'll do just fine."
"Luke was in plays?" Gabriel never knew this. He wasn't even sure he was going to survive this experience if he dared tell his dad about it. He'd seen Dead Poets Society, he knew what happened to actors with parochial, super-religious parents. But Luke is 6 years his senior and Gabriel was still in fourth grade when Luke dropped out, so his memory's a bit foggy on the details.
"He was a born actor. As I'm sure you are, too. I can tell by the way you carry yourself. I'll give you a little leg up on the auditions if you like. Want a hint?"
Gabriel nods.
"You're supposed to bring a song to sing." Ms. Moseley waddles over and leans down. "Think Elvis," she stage-whispers in his ear.
A grin spreads over Gabriel's face. "I can do that," he says. "Thanks!" Stupidly energetic all of a sudden, he jogs all the way home after school just so he can open the front door and declare, "Lucy! I'm home!"
The pounding he gets is totally worth it.
"So," Gabriel says on the phone to Sam that night. "I think I'm gonna do it."
"Hm?" Sam's got one eye in the Renaissance and another on American Idol and is only one-third paying attention. "Do what?"
Gabriel clears his throat. "Audition."
American Idol drops out of the picture and now Gabriel's got two-thirds of Sam's attention. The Renaissance has to linger there or he'll flunk his pop quiz. "Really?"
"Yeah. You're gonna have to help me, though."
"Yeah, of course!" Sam's grin is wide as the sky. "Just name it, man."
"Can I..." Gabriel sounds so shy it's kind of bizarre to imagine it's really him. "I don't know, can I practice for you?"
The idea puts little butterflies to work churning up Sam's stomach, but only in the best possible way. "You, uh... you wanna come over here? We haven't had dinner yet."
Gabriel's "yes" comes faster than the speed of sound.
And that's how Dean and Gabriel end up on opposite sides of a dinner table, staring at each other over apricot chicken, a definite chill in the air. Sam fears he may have made a colossal mistake, especially when Dean reaches deliberately for the drumstick Gabriel was going for, grabbing and gnawing on it greedily. Gabriel watches, stunned, and when Sam sees his fist clench under the table, he reaches out and covers it with his own hand.
The surprise of the touch jolts Gabriel enough that he relaxes.
"He's still kind of pissed at you for picking on me," Sam says in a low tone. "Once he realizes you're a good guy, he'll cut it out."
Gabriel nods, mollified -- or maybe just distracted. He pulls his hand away and stares at it for a minute, then resumes eating without a word.
Mom takes it upon herself to break the silence. "So, Gabriel," she says, pronouncing his name eloquently and politely, "Sam tells us you're going to be auditioning for the school play."
Gabriel glares at Sam. So much for broken silence. Sam isn't cowed, though; he looks up at Mom and smiles. "Gabriel's really good."
"And will you be singing a song?" The way Mom says it makes it sound like it's an elementary school production of Peter Pan, and now Sam does want to cringe.
Thankfully, Gabriel finds his voice. "The drama teacher told me to sing something by Elvis."
"Oh!" A comfortable chuckle wafts over from the far end of the table. Sam never expected Dad to chime in, but not only has he made himself heard, he's now looking pleased as punch, cheeks pink over his scruffy chin. "That takes some guts. Can you swing your hips, then?"
"Dad!" Sam is ready to hide under the table.
Dean jumps up. "I'll show you how it's done, dude." He thrusts his hips forward in a motion that most sane parents would surely find embarrassing. Dad's applause is yet another reason for Sam to hide under the table.
And then Gabriel gets up. And does Dean one better.
And sings, in a perfect Elvis wail, "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog."
Mom and Dad both applaud. Sam peeks out from the fingers he's plastered over his eyes.
Dean breaks in. "Cryin' all the time." He circles his hips and throws his head to the side in a classic sneer.
Dean's eyes and Gabriel's meet. And all at once they're both circling the table, wailing in unison, "You ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine!"
Embarrassed as Sam is, at least this means Dean's not going to hold a grudge. But Sam might just have nightmares about rhinestone jumpsuits tonight.
Later, in Sam's room, they can't stop laughing about it.
"Did you even see Dean's face?" Sam's giggles are contagious. "You sure as hell showed him how it's done."
"He's cool," Gabriel says. "I always thought he was kind of, you know..."
"A dick?" Sam is still chuckling.
"Sullen," says Gabriel. "I'm kind of relieved he knows how to have a good time."
"That's all he knows," says Sam, but it's true, Dean can be the ultra-serious type when he thinks nobody's looking. He thinks it might be awesome if the three of them end up friends. Although there's a possessive piece of him that doesn't want to share Gabriel with anyone.
Later, in Sam's room, they can't stop laughing about it.
"Did you even see Dean's face?" Sam's giggles are contagious. "You sure as hell showed him how it's done."
"He's cool," Gabriel says. "I always thought he was kind of, you know..."
"A dick?" Sam is still chuckling.
"Sullen," says Gabriel. "I'm kind of relieved he knows how to have a good time."
"That's all he knows," says Sam, but it's true, Dean can be the ultra-serious type when he thinks nobody's looking. He thinks it might be awesome if the three of them end up friends. Although there's a possessive piece of him that doesn't want to share Gabriel with anyone.
The first thing Gabriel notices upon arriving at the auditions is the sheer number of girls. There's about seven girls to every guy -- more -- and they're all singing or warming up or doing something else that makes Gabriel feel like a rank amateur in comparison. Dude, this is a high school play! What's with everyone acting like they're up for the lead role in the new Lloyd Webber masterpiece?
He looks over at Sam, who's hanging near the back of the auditorium, arms folded over his chest, looking like the longest, lankiest ray of sunshine in the world. He raises one hand to give Gabriel a wave, and Gabriel gulps, smiles halfheartedly in return. He feels woefully underprepared.
Ms. Moseley is standing at the front, consulting with the piano player. After a moment, she turns, and somehow or other the whole place quiets without her making a sound. "All right, kids," she says, "let's get started."
There's an order, a signup sheet, and then minutes after minutes of Gabriel sitting in the uncomfortable, rickety chairs, watching the girls singing "Memory" or "Seasons of Love" or something from some musical about wicked witches. Most of them sound like they have a tin whistle stuck in their throats. A few of them are quite good. There aren't that many boys.
And then it's his turn.
He gets up on the stage and holy crap there's lots of rows of seats out in front of him. Like, LOTS lots. If all of those were filled with people, people EXPECTING something of him, could he give them what they were expecting? Seriously, could he?
"My-- my name is Gabriel Archer," he says, looking down at Ms. Moseley, who is looking at a clipboard. She gazes up through the top half of her bifocals at him, and there's zero emotion in her eyes. "I'm, uh... I'm gonna sing All Shook Up."
The piano player grins. A bit of life flares in Ms. Moseley's eyes. Gabriel swallows hard.
"My hands are s--shaky and my knees are weak," he sings, forgetting to move, forgetting to act like Elvis at all. He's hearing his own voice too much. He's nervous. His eyes catch Sam's and sees the look of consternation on his face, and he cuts off.
"OK," he says, "that's pretty much how I'm feeling right now, yeah."
A titter of laughter wafts through the auditorium. Something in Gabriel's heart perks up.
"Hey, even Elvis got nervous, right?" he says, eyes lifting to meet Ms. Moseley's. She giggles, just for a moment, but between that and the sudden smile that appears on Sam's face, it's enough to fix what ails him.
He rolls his hips forward and smirks at the pianist. "One more time, honey," he says in perfect Elvisese. The pianist has to restrain her laughter.
This time, Gabriel goes for it. He imagines he's in Sam's living room, trying to out-sing Dean, watching Sam's face grow rosier and rosier with joy at each line.
~My hands are shaky and my knees are week
I can't seem to stand on my own two feet
Who do you thank when you have such luck?
I'm in love
I'm all shook up!~
When he looks over at Sam, he sees that perfect shade of pink in his cheeks, dimples perking at the corners of his mouth as he grins and claps.
"Thankya," he says happily. "Thankya very much."
Gabriel gets called back. This is not as much of a big deal as it sounds, because all the guys get called back. Well, all but the tone-deaf one whose voice hasn't yet changed. But like almost every high school in the suburban Midwest, this one is severely lacking in guys willing to admit they have an interest in musical theatre. So the teachers have to work with what they've got.
Gabriel reports back to an excited Sam that when they started to try people in various combinations, like reading scenes and stuff, more often than not they had him reading the role of the show's Elvis figure, Conrad Birdie. He says he got a lot of criticism at first for playing him over the top, but once he'd gotten that taken care of, Ms. Moseley had started to pay attention to the other person in the scene more. He didn't know if that was a good thing or bad. Maybe he was forgettable?
"I doubt it," Sam tells him. "You're a lot of things, but forgettable isn't one of 'em."
"Eh, whatevers," Gabriel says, but at night he's clutching his pillow, trying not to imagine Sam's pleased face if Gabriel gets the part, or his disappointed one if he ends up in the chorus, or playing the kid brother of the ingenue charmed by Birdie, or whatever. "Fate's fate," he tells himself. "Nothing you think or do can change what happens now." But he can't help feeling like he's jinxing himself by counting his proverbial chickens. Two superstitions in direct contradiction, and Gabriel believes in both of them. Which means he's screwed and sleepless.
Zombie-walking into school the next morning, Gabriel is seized by a mute, red-faced Sam. His bleary eyes and mumbled questions don't help him comprehend or fight Sam's intent, and he ends up dragged down the hall and pushed in front of a bulletin board.
BYE BYE BIRDIE
CAST
Now he's awake. His heart starts fluttering nervously as he scans the cast list.
Albert........Victor Hendrickson
Rose.........Pamela Barnes
Kim.........Jo Harvelle
Gabriel blinks.
Conrad......Gabriel Archer
He whirls, his eyes huge discs, to see Sam beaming at him.
"I got it," he says.
Sam nods. "You got it."
"I got it." Gabriel takes a minute, then smiles shakily. "Hells, yeah!" He lifts a hand to offer a high-five.
He ends up with an armful of Sam instead, long arms wrapping around him in an enthused hug.
Gabriel just keeps grinning. Hells, ~yeah~.
To be continued
Volume 2: You Gotta Be Honestly Sincere (Chapter 1 of 4)
Author:
tiptoe39Rating: PG
Summary: Sam/Gabriel High school AU. WIP. Done through twitfic / twitlonger. Thanks to
jabber_moose for an amazing title!!Volume 1: Bully and the Beast
One | Two | Three
Volume 2: You Gotta Be Honestly Sincere
AUDITIONS.
Despite the neon pink paper and the huge, blocky font, Gabriel nearly walks right by it. It's Sam who lingers by the bulletin board. "Hey," he muses, "you should do this."
Gabriel walks backward a few steps. "Do what-- OW," he declares, shielding his eyes. "Someone needs to turn down the volume on that paper. Geez."
"It is a little terrifying," Sam agrees with a short laugh. "But seriously. You're so good at acting, you should try out."
Gabriel blows air through his lips. "I don't think so," he says.
"Why not?"
"That is a musical." Gabriel's index finger lands on the other bold-faced phrase - BYE BYE BIRDIE - "and I am not a singer."
"There are parts where you don't have to sing." Sam shrugs. "You could at least try."
"Hmrmmrmhghm," Gabriel says.
Sam frowns. "What?" Gabriel's silent, and Sam shuffles closer. "What's wrong?"
Gabriel's eyes dart back and forth, as though afraid he'll be heard. He leans toward Sam. "What if I go there," he says, "and I make a fool of myself, and I don't get in? Or what if I get in, and then the curtain goes up, and I freeze and can't move? In front of the entire school?"
Sam laughs. "Dude. So what? Besides, you don't have any trouble making a fool of yourself in front of me."
"Yeah, but you're different."
Sam looks him over. "No, I'm not," he says seriously. "You're talented, Gabe. You should try out. Tell me you'll at least think about it."
Gabriel mutters agreement. Honestly, he's afraid if he thinks about it, he won't be able to think about anything else. His blood is rushing through his body right now, and a little voice is singing in his head: wouldn't it be nice if....?
He doodles stick figures on stages for the rest of the day and tries to squelch the improbable dreams that have suddenly taken over his head.
Gabriel thinks about it. A lot. Auditions? Auditions mean possible rejection. And then rehearsal, and a lot of work, and maybe sucking, and then a performance, and then maybe sucking at that, and then feeling like shit. He runs through that litany about seven hundred times, and it is still not enough to break the hold that the concept has on him. Damn Sam for even bringing it up, because now Gabriel's sold. He's gonna have to put himself out there. It's going to happen.
He sneaks into the drama teacher's room after class. Ms. Moseley is big, black, and dangerous, and she never fails to look like a walking, talking vat of chocolate. Gabriel likes her, despite never having taken one of her classes. And inexplicably, she knows his name.
"Mister Archer. Gabriel, isn't it?" she says without turning around. "Well, I've been wondering if Lucy's little brother was ever going to follow in his footsteps."
"Lucy?" Gabriel's older brother's name is Luke.
"Oh, that was just a bit of good-natured teasing," Ms. Moseley says. "He was such a bleeding heart, your brother was. Didn't want to hurt a fly." She turns and faces him, and Gabriel immediately feels as though he's in the kitchen of someone's grandmother about to get fed a stack of pancakes. Is that racist? he wonders vaguely.
"Oh, I'm a lot more than Aunt Jemima," she declares, and Gabriel is now officially unsettled. He squirms in his shoes. "So have you come to ask about the auditions, then? If you're anything like Lucy was, I think you'll do just fine."
"Luke was in plays?" Gabriel never knew this. He wasn't even sure he was going to survive this experience if he dared tell his dad about it. He'd seen Dead Poets Society, he knew what happened to actors with parochial, super-religious parents. But Luke is 6 years his senior and Gabriel was still in fourth grade when Luke dropped out, so his memory's a bit foggy on the details.
"He was a born actor. As I'm sure you are, too. I can tell by the way you carry yourself. I'll give you a little leg up on the auditions if you like. Want a hint?"
Gabriel nods.
"You're supposed to bring a song to sing." Ms. Moseley waddles over and leans down. "Think Elvis," she stage-whispers in his ear.
A grin spreads over Gabriel's face. "I can do that," he says. "Thanks!" Stupidly energetic all of a sudden, he jogs all the way home after school just so he can open the front door and declare, "Lucy! I'm home!"
The pounding he gets is totally worth it.
"So," Gabriel says on the phone to Sam that night. "I think I'm gonna do it."
"Hm?" Sam's got one eye in the Renaissance and another on American Idol and is only one-third paying attention. "Do what?"
Gabriel clears his throat. "Audition."
American Idol drops out of the picture and now Gabriel's got two-thirds of Sam's attention. The Renaissance has to linger there or he'll flunk his pop quiz. "Really?"
"Yeah. You're gonna have to help me, though."
"Yeah, of course!" Sam's grin is wide as the sky. "Just name it, man."
"Can I..." Gabriel sounds so shy it's kind of bizarre to imagine it's really him. "I don't know, can I practice for you?"
The idea puts little butterflies to work churning up Sam's stomach, but only in the best possible way. "You, uh... you wanna come over here? We haven't had dinner yet."
Gabriel's "yes" comes faster than the speed of sound.
And that's how Dean and Gabriel end up on opposite sides of a dinner table, staring at each other over apricot chicken, a definite chill in the air. Sam fears he may have made a colossal mistake, especially when Dean reaches deliberately for the drumstick Gabriel was going for, grabbing and gnawing on it greedily. Gabriel watches, stunned, and when Sam sees his fist clench under the table, he reaches out and covers it with his own hand.
The surprise of the touch jolts Gabriel enough that he relaxes.
"He's still kind of pissed at you for picking on me," Sam says in a low tone. "Once he realizes you're a good guy, he'll cut it out."
Gabriel nods, mollified -- or maybe just distracted. He pulls his hand away and stares at it for a minute, then resumes eating without a word.
Mom takes it upon herself to break the silence. "So, Gabriel," she says, pronouncing his name eloquently and politely, "Sam tells us you're going to be auditioning for the school play."
Gabriel glares at Sam. So much for broken silence. Sam isn't cowed, though; he looks up at Mom and smiles. "Gabriel's really good."
"And will you be singing a song?" The way Mom says it makes it sound like it's an elementary school production of Peter Pan, and now Sam does want to cringe.
Thankfully, Gabriel finds his voice. "The drama teacher told me to sing something by Elvis."
"Oh!" A comfortable chuckle wafts over from the far end of the table. Sam never expected Dad to chime in, but not only has he made himself heard, he's now looking pleased as punch, cheeks pink over his scruffy chin. "That takes some guts. Can you swing your hips, then?"
"Dad!" Sam is ready to hide under the table.
Dean jumps up. "I'll show you how it's done, dude." He thrusts his hips forward in a motion that most sane parents would surely find embarrassing. Dad's applause is yet another reason for Sam to hide under the table.
And then Gabriel gets up. And does Dean one better.
And sings, in a perfect Elvis wail, "You ain't nothin' but a hound dog."
Mom and Dad both applaud. Sam peeks out from the fingers he's plastered over his eyes.
Dean breaks in. "Cryin' all the time." He circles his hips and throws his head to the side in a classic sneer.
Dean's eyes and Gabriel's meet. And all at once they're both circling the table, wailing in unison, "You ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine!"
Embarrassed as Sam is, at least this means Dean's not going to hold a grudge. But Sam might just have nightmares about rhinestone jumpsuits tonight.
Later, in Sam's room, they can't stop laughing about it.
"Did you even see Dean's face?" Sam's giggles are contagious. "You sure as hell showed him how it's done."
"He's cool," Gabriel says. "I always thought he was kind of, you know..."
"A dick?" Sam is still chuckling.
"Sullen," says Gabriel. "I'm kind of relieved he knows how to have a good time."
"That's all he knows," says Sam, but it's true, Dean can be the ultra-serious type when he thinks nobody's looking. He thinks it might be awesome if the three of them end up friends. Although there's a possessive piece of him that doesn't want to share Gabriel with anyone.
Later, in Sam's room, they can't stop laughing about it.
"Did you even see Dean's face?" Sam's giggles are contagious. "You sure as hell showed him how it's done."
"He's cool," Gabriel says. "I always thought he was kind of, you know..."
"A dick?" Sam is still chuckling.
"Sullen," says Gabriel. "I'm kind of relieved he knows how to have a good time."
"That's all he knows," says Sam, but it's true, Dean can be the ultra-serious type when he thinks nobody's looking. He thinks it might be awesome if the three of them end up friends. Although there's a possessive piece of him that doesn't want to share Gabriel with anyone.
The first thing Gabriel notices upon arriving at the auditions is the sheer number of girls. There's about seven girls to every guy -- more -- and they're all singing or warming up or doing something else that makes Gabriel feel like a rank amateur in comparison. Dude, this is a high school play! What's with everyone acting like they're up for the lead role in the new Lloyd Webber masterpiece?
He looks over at Sam, who's hanging near the back of the auditorium, arms folded over his chest, looking like the longest, lankiest ray of sunshine in the world. He raises one hand to give Gabriel a wave, and Gabriel gulps, smiles halfheartedly in return. He feels woefully underprepared.
Ms. Moseley is standing at the front, consulting with the piano player. After a moment, she turns, and somehow or other the whole place quiets without her making a sound. "All right, kids," she says, "let's get started."
There's an order, a signup sheet, and then minutes after minutes of Gabriel sitting in the uncomfortable, rickety chairs, watching the girls singing "Memory" or "Seasons of Love" or something from some musical about wicked witches. Most of them sound like they have a tin whistle stuck in their throats. A few of them are quite good. There aren't that many boys.
And then it's his turn.
He gets up on the stage and holy crap there's lots of rows of seats out in front of him. Like, LOTS lots. If all of those were filled with people, people EXPECTING something of him, could he give them what they were expecting? Seriously, could he?
"My-- my name is Gabriel Archer," he says, looking down at Ms. Moseley, who is looking at a clipboard. She gazes up through the top half of her bifocals at him, and there's zero emotion in her eyes. "I'm, uh... I'm gonna sing All Shook Up."
The piano player grins. A bit of life flares in Ms. Moseley's eyes. Gabriel swallows hard.
"My hands are s--shaky and my knees are weak," he sings, forgetting to move, forgetting to act like Elvis at all. He's hearing his own voice too much. He's nervous. His eyes catch Sam's and sees the look of consternation on his face, and he cuts off.
"OK," he says, "that's pretty much how I'm feeling right now, yeah."
A titter of laughter wafts through the auditorium. Something in Gabriel's heart perks up.
"Hey, even Elvis got nervous, right?" he says, eyes lifting to meet Ms. Moseley's. She giggles, just for a moment, but between that and the sudden smile that appears on Sam's face, it's enough to fix what ails him.
He rolls his hips forward and smirks at the pianist. "One more time, honey," he says in perfect Elvisese. The pianist has to restrain her laughter.
This time, Gabriel goes for it. He imagines he's in Sam's living room, trying to out-sing Dean, watching Sam's face grow rosier and rosier with joy at each line.
~My hands are shaky and my knees are week
I can't seem to stand on my own two feet
Who do you thank when you have such luck?
I'm in love
I'm all shook up!~
When he looks over at Sam, he sees that perfect shade of pink in his cheeks, dimples perking at the corners of his mouth as he grins and claps.
"Thankya," he says happily. "Thankya very much."
Gabriel gets called back. This is not as much of a big deal as it sounds, because all the guys get called back. Well, all but the tone-deaf one whose voice hasn't yet changed. But like almost every high school in the suburban Midwest, this one is severely lacking in guys willing to admit they have an interest in musical theatre. So the teachers have to work with what they've got.
Gabriel reports back to an excited Sam that when they started to try people in various combinations, like reading scenes and stuff, more often than not they had him reading the role of the show's Elvis figure, Conrad Birdie. He says he got a lot of criticism at first for playing him over the top, but once he'd gotten that taken care of, Ms. Moseley had started to pay attention to the other person in the scene more. He didn't know if that was a good thing or bad. Maybe he was forgettable?
"I doubt it," Sam tells him. "You're a lot of things, but forgettable isn't one of 'em."
"Eh, whatevers," Gabriel says, but at night he's clutching his pillow, trying not to imagine Sam's pleased face if Gabriel gets the part, or his disappointed one if he ends up in the chorus, or playing the kid brother of the ingenue charmed by Birdie, or whatever. "Fate's fate," he tells himself. "Nothing you think or do can change what happens now." But he can't help feeling like he's jinxing himself by counting his proverbial chickens. Two superstitions in direct contradiction, and Gabriel believes in both of them. Which means he's screwed and sleepless.
Zombie-walking into school the next morning, Gabriel is seized by a mute, red-faced Sam. His bleary eyes and mumbled questions don't help him comprehend or fight Sam's intent, and he ends up dragged down the hall and pushed in front of a bulletin board.
BYE BYE BIRDIE
CAST
Now he's awake. His heart starts fluttering nervously as he scans the cast list.
Albert........Victor Hendrickson
Rose.........Pamela Barnes
Kim.........Jo Harvelle
Gabriel blinks.
Conrad......Gabriel Archer
He whirls, his eyes huge discs, to see Sam beaming at him.
"I got it," he says.
Sam nods. "You got it."
"I got it." Gabriel takes a minute, then smiles shakily. "Hells, yeah!" He lifts a hand to offer a high-five.
He ends up with an armful of Sam instead, long arms wrapping around him in an enthused hug.
Gabriel just keeps grinning. Hells, ~yeah~.
To be continued
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-24 02:59 pm (UTC)Boy knows how to make an entrance, I'll give him that!
Awesome stuff! More, please?
*sits up and begs*
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-24 03:54 pm (UTC)There's plenty more on the twitter machines, just search #SamGabeHSAU. Also on vol 1 chap 2 there's a comment where i'm keeping a running link dump, so you can read ahead of the curve XD
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-26 05:32 pm (UTC)*coughs* is now a weird time to mention my first real grade high school drama production was Bye Bye Birdie? So if i didn't love this enough, you had to throw that in.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-12-26 07:26 pm (UTC)