Call Me ... Maybe? for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sirmoosealot
Apr. 10th, 2014 12:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: Call Me… Maybe?
Pairing: Charlie/Jo
Rating: G
“Hey Kev, check it out!” Charlie stands on her toes, weaving her head back and forth to see around the crowd of people trickling slowly down the aisles between the booths. The kid’s dark head is bent over a table of what looks like collectible figurines, but it shoots up at the sound of her voice, and he turns to dart across the traffic to her side.
“Look!” the redhead crows ecstatically, pointing eagerly at the painting in front of her. “Hermione!”
Kevin looks around her shoulder, grinning appreciatively at the image of Hermione standing in the traditional hero pose, wand upraised, with Harry and Ron each clinging to one of her legs like your stereotypical damsels in distress. “Nice,” he replies, laughing, because Kevin appreciates the good things which is probably why they’ve been best friends since they faced off at a Magic tournament a few years back.
He glances at his friend speculatively. “Are you gonna get it? I thought you went over your budget for the weekend already.”
Charlie waves a dismissive hand at him. “Have I taught you nothing? Budgets can be broken for badass fanart, young Padawan. Especially when said fanart would looking frakkin’ amazing on my bedroom wall.”
Kevin snorts. “Isn’t your bedroom wall already covered in fanart?”
“No, there’s that one spot right over my desk, remember?” Charlie says, pouting.
“Oh right,” her friend replies, rolling his eyes and grinning good-naturedly. “I forgot that one.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t missed our last two game nights you wouldn’t have forgotten what my bedroom looks like.” Charlie nudges him with her elbow, fishing with her opposite hand in her back pocket for her wallet. “You owe me, kiddo. It’s not the same without you. Ed and Harry have no taste.”
She doesn’t miss Kevin’s knowing smirk. “And by that you mean they ship Romione?”
Charlie snorts. “J.K. even admitted that Romione shouldn’t have happened but those peasants won’t budge. Ugh!” She pauses in her tirade when the artist behind the table finishes with the client she’d been talking to, and orders the painting. They turn back into the stream of people, wandering along with the herd, Charlie with her new purchase clutched tightly to her chest.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” Kevin says finally. He sounds tired, his voice resigned, and Charlie’s flooded with guilt for bugging him about it. Kevin’s schedule is timed to the minute, filled with volunteering and cello practice and recitals and student government meetings on top of all his schoolwork, and it’s amazing he even managed to get away from it long enough to come to Comic-Con with her. He wouldn’t have managed it at all, if it hadn’t been scheduled and his time budgeted for months in advance.
She leans to bump him with her shoulder. “It’s okay kid. I know life’s super busy right now.” She grins at him. “You’re not going to become the first Asian-American President without hard work, after all.”
Kevin smiles back at her, and she resists the urge to sling an arm around his shoulders and give him a noogie like a proper big sister would. “So what’s next on the agenda?” she asks, and Kevin whips out his iPad and pulls up the schedule.
“That Trek panel we wanted to see is at two,” he comments. “Then it’s just autographs and photo ops after that.”
Charlie leans over to glance at the time in the upper right hand corner of the iPad screen that Kevin tilts her way. She groans. “We still have two hours! If I don’t get out of this hall I’m going to spend all my life savings on that replica of Ice.” She points over Kevin’s shoulder at the booth hung with rows upon rows of weaponry including Eddard Stark’s legendary greatsword.
“You don’t need another fake sword, especially not one that’s taller than you are,” Kevin says sternly. “And we came on your scooter; how would you even get it home?”
Charlie sighs dramatically. “Always the voice of reason,” she complains. “If that’s what an education gets you, I’m glad I dropped out.” She glances forlornly back at the booth where Ice is hanging, taunting her.
“Lunch?” Kevin suggests, but she ignores him, her hand closing tightly around his bicep as she stares.
The pretty boy with the GQ haircut and army surplus issue shirt who had been manning the booth when she first walked by is gone, replaced by a petite blonde girl in a black short-sleeved henley. She’s talking easily with a dark-skinned man with unfortunate facial hair as he examines the knives in her display, and the way she handles them, with the ease of familiarity, makes it clear that she’s not as out of place behind that table as a more judgmental mind than Charlie would first assume.
“Hello? Earth to Charlie?” Kevin waves a hand in front of her face. Charlie swats it away and turns him, spinning him bodily so he’s looking in the same direction as she is.
Kevin follows the direction of her gaze and groans when he catches sight of the blonde. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” Charlie pouts in Kevin’s direction.
“Find someone everywhere we go to hit on.”
Charlie’s frown flips into a grin. “I have eyes. She’s hot. Plus, she’s got swords.”
“Well, what are you gonna do about it?” Kevin asks. “Go talk to her. I will push you if I have to. And be quick, I’m hungry.”
“Alright, alright, there’s no need to resort to violence,” Charlie says. “How do I look?” she asks, adjusting her leather vest over her waist and cocking a hip.
Kevin looks her up and down. “Like a huge nerd in a space cowgirl getup.”
Charlie grins, straightening up. “Good,” she says, and turns to shove her way through the crowds to the front of the booth.
The blonde is still talking to the man with the knives, so Charlie squeezes her way up to the counter and busies herself staring lustily at Ice where it’s hanging on the wall, imagining it hanging in her apartment between the Sword of Gryffindor and Andúril. It’s expensive, yeah, but it’s not like she can’t skim a little off the bank account of some blood-sucking corporation that thinks it’s okay to test the crap they produce on animals.
Kevin, sensing her train of thought, digs a skinny elbow into her ribcage. “No,” he hisses, and Charlie sighs wistfully. The kid knows her too well for his own good.
“Next time, I’m not bringing you,” she retorts, even though they both know it’s an empty threat. “Always spoiling my fun.”
The blonde finishes up with the man she’d been talking to and turns in Charlie’s direction, smiling a closed-mouth, friendly but standoffish smile. But when her eyes find Charlie, there’s a barely perceptible shift as she scans her up and down, and when she meets Charlie’s gaze again, her brown eyes are warm.
“Hi,” the blonde says, her smile widening. “What can I do for you?”
Oh wow, she’s cute. Really, really cute. Like, devastatingly, distractingly cute. “Uhh, hi!” Charlie gestures up at the swords on the wall. “I was just, uh… coming over to admire your Ice replica. I collect swords - well, I collect a lot of things, swords being one of them. Are you a swordsmith or -” Kevin stabs a finger into her ribcage again and she slams her mouth shut, realizing she’s babbling. Shut up, Charlie!
The blonde grins, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t make the swords, no. It’s my friend’s shop. His brother usually helps him out at these things but he’s got some big test coming up at school and Dean wouldn’t let him take the time off from studying to come help, and I’m the only one of his friends who knows enough to take Sam’s place.” She extends a small hand. “Jo Harvelle, freak with a knife collection.”
Charlie giggles and accepts her hand and shakes. “Charlie Bradbury, veteran Comic-Con goer and collector extraordinaire. And this is my friend Kevin Tran.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jo replies, smiling warmly at them both. Kevin waves back with a small smile.
“So,” Charlie asks casually, “is this your first Con?” ‘Do you come here often?’ Really? Charlie can feel Kevin shaking with barely suppressed laughter at her side and she wants to facepalm so bad for letting that cheesy line slip out of her mouth.
Jo nods, and if she notices the distinctly awful pickup attempt, she doesn’t react beyond pressing her lips together to hide another smile. “It’s interesting. I don’t even know what half these things are, but Dean made me watch Star Wars when I was a kid and like every year after that on his birthday and it’s pretty awesome.”
“Nice,” Charlie says, “a Star Wars fan. You’re okay.”
“Good to know,” Jo says, laughing. She studies Charlie’s outfit, the gaze appraising. “I like your costume.”
Charlie beams, lifting a hand to adjust the leather cord she’s wearing as a choker. “Actually, here we call it cosplay,” she says, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Since you’re new, I’ll let it pass- this time.”
“Thanks,” Jo replies, laughing. “So who are you cosplaying as?”
“Zoe Washburne.” Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline at Jo’s blank expression. “Firefly? Serenity?” Jo shrugs apologetically and Charlie’s mouth falls open. “Seriously, you’ve never seen Firefly?” Jo shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re missing. All the characters are amazing, especially the women. And Zoe is bad. Ass.”
“Looks like it,” Jo says, her eyes skating over Charlie’s costume, lingering on the replica shotgun at her hip. “You ever shoot a real one of those?”
Charlie shakes her head. “Only if you count first-person shooters. Call of Duty is my jam. Have you?”
Jo grins, her blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders as she nods. “Yep. Been shooting since I was a little kid. My dad taught me.”
“Really?” Charlie’s eyes light up. “Swoon.” She freezes, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights. She really needs a better filter. “I mean - uh, that’s cool.”
Kevin snorts at her side, covering it with a cough when Charlie turns to glare at him. When she looks back at Jo, she’s laughing, too.
“You should try it sometime,” Jo says. She pauses, considering, flipping the little knife in her hand absently, with an easy familiarity that maybe shouldn’t be hot but totally is. “I know a place just outside of town. Maybe I could show you.”
Beside her, Kevin mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “unbelievable”, and wanders to the next booth to look at the etched metal plaques the vendor has lined up on his table.
Charlie gapes for a moment as Jo presses her lips together in amusement, laughter in her eyes. “Did you just -”
“Ask you out? Yeah.” Jo shrugs, grinning. “So what’s it gonna be?”
Charlie reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pen. With her other hand she grabs Jo’s wrist, turning her hand palm up and scribbling her phone number on it.
Jo grins across the table at her. “I guess that’s a yes then?”
“Yes,” Charlie says. “I, uh… better get back to Kevin before he passes out from hunger. And I guess you better get back to work?”
The blonde follows her gaze down the table to where a guy in a Doctor Who t-shirt and a couple of Hobbit cosplayers have gathered and sighs. “Yeah, I guess I’d better.” She grins. “Come see me tomorrow. Dean can hold down the fort for fifteen minutes while we get some mini-donuts.” She winks, and turns to greet the waiting customers.
Charlie sighs happily, unable to hold back her grin as she ducks around a couple of teenaged girls wearing flower crowns and heads over to the table where Kevin is waiting. “So, lunch?” she asks nonchalantly.
Kevin looks up from the plaques, rolling his eyes at her. “You are unbelievable. I can’t believe how easy it is for you to get dates.”
Charlie shrugs one shoulder, smiling. “What? I can’t shut this down.” She slings an arm around his neck. “Don’t worry, kiddo, your day is coming. Stick with me, young Skywalker; I’ll show you the ways of the Force.”
Her friend groans. “Why do I have to be Luke? Can’t I be Han Solo?”
“Sorry Kev,” Charlie replies, winking. “If anyone’s Han Solo in this universe, it’s me. I’m the one with all the game.”
This time, she does give him a noogie.
Pairing: Charlie/Jo
Rating: G
“Hey Kev, check it out!” Charlie stands on her toes, weaving her head back and forth to see around the crowd of people trickling slowly down the aisles between the booths. The kid’s dark head is bent over a table of what looks like collectible figurines, but it shoots up at the sound of her voice, and he turns to dart across the traffic to her side.
“Look!” the redhead crows ecstatically, pointing eagerly at the painting in front of her. “Hermione!”
Kevin looks around her shoulder, grinning appreciatively at the image of Hermione standing in the traditional hero pose, wand upraised, with Harry and Ron each clinging to one of her legs like your stereotypical damsels in distress. “Nice,” he replies, laughing, because Kevin appreciates the good things which is probably why they’ve been best friends since they faced off at a Magic tournament a few years back.
He glances at his friend speculatively. “Are you gonna get it? I thought you went over your budget for the weekend already.”
Charlie waves a dismissive hand at him. “Have I taught you nothing? Budgets can be broken for badass fanart, young Padawan. Especially when said fanart would looking frakkin’ amazing on my bedroom wall.”
Kevin snorts. “Isn’t your bedroom wall already covered in fanart?”
“No, there’s that one spot right over my desk, remember?” Charlie says, pouting.
“Oh right,” her friend replies, rolling his eyes and grinning good-naturedly. “I forgot that one.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t missed our last two game nights you wouldn’t have forgotten what my bedroom looks like.” Charlie nudges him with her elbow, fishing with her opposite hand in her back pocket for her wallet. “You owe me, kiddo. It’s not the same without you. Ed and Harry have no taste.”
She doesn’t miss Kevin’s knowing smirk. “And by that you mean they ship Romione?”
Charlie snorts. “J.K. even admitted that Romione shouldn’t have happened but those peasants won’t budge. Ugh!” She pauses in her tirade when the artist behind the table finishes with the client she’d been talking to, and orders the painting. They turn back into the stream of people, wandering along with the herd, Charlie with her new purchase clutched tightly to her chest.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” Kevin says finally. He sounds tired, his voice resigned, and Charlie’s flooded with guilt for bugging him about it. Kevin’s schedule is timed to the minute, filled with volunteering and cello practice and recitals and student government meetings on top of all his schoolwork, and it’s amazing he even managed to get away from it long enough to come to Comic-Con with her. He wouldn’t have managed it at all, if it hadn’t been scheduled and his time budgeted for months in advance.
She leans to bump him with her shoulder. “It’s okay kid. I know life’s super busy right now.” She grins at him. “You’re not going to become the first Asian-American President without hard work, after all.”
Kevin smiles back at her, and she resists the urge to sling an arm around his shoulders and give him a noogie like a proper big sister would. “So what’s next on the agenda?” she asks, and Kevin whips out his iPad and pulls up the schedule.
“That Trek panel we wanted to see is at two,” he comments. “Then it’s just autographs and photo ops after that.”
Charlie leans over to glance at the time in the upper right hand corner of the iPad screen that Kevin tilts her way. She groans. “We still have two hours! If I don’t get out of this hall I’m going to spend all my life savings on that replica of Ice.” She points over Kevin’s shoulder at the booth hung with rows upon rows of weaponry including Eddard Stark’s legendary greatsword.
“You don’t need another fake sword, especially not one that’s taller than you are,” Kevin says sternly. “And we came on your scooter; how would you even get it home?”
Charlie sighs dramatically. “Always the voice of reason,” she complains. “If that’s what an education gets you, I’m glad I dropped out.” She glances forlornly back at the booth where Ice is hanging, taunting her.
“Lunch?” Kevin suggests, but she ignores him, her hand closing tightly around his bicep as she stares.
The pretty boy with the GQ haircut and army surplus issue shirt who had been manning the booth when she first walked by is gone, replaced by a petite blonde girl in a black short-sleeved henley. She’s talking easily with a dark-skinned man with unfortunate facial hair as he examines the knives in her display, and the way she handles them, with the ease of familiarity, makes it clear that she’s not as out of place behind that table as a more judgmental mind than Charlie would first assume.
“Hello? Earth to Charlie?” Kevin waves a hand in front of her face. Charlie swats it away and turns him, spinning him bodily so he’s looking in the same direction as she is.
Kevin follows the direction of her gaze and groans when he catches sight of the blonde. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” Charlie pouts in Kevin’s direction.
“Find someone everywhere we go to hit on.”
Charlie’s frown flips into a grin. “I have eyes. She’s hot. Plus, she’s got swords.”
“Well, what are you gonna do about it?” Kevin asks. “Go talk to her. I will push you if I have to. And be quick, I’m hungry.”
“Alright, alright, there’s no need to resort to violence,” Charlie says. “How do I look?” she asks, adjusting her leather vest over her waist and cocking a hip.
Kevin looks her up and down. “Like a huge nerd in a space cowgirl getup.”
Charlie grins, straightening up. “Good,” she says, and turns to shove her way through the crowds to the front of the booth.
The blonde is still talking to the man with the knives, so Charlie squeezes her way up to the counter and busies herself staring lustily at Ice where it’s hanging on the wall, imagining it hanging in her apartment between the Sword of Gryffindor and Andúril. It’s expensive, yeah, but it’s not like she can’t skim a little off the bank account of some blood-sucking corporation that thinks it’s okay to test the crap they produce on animals.
Kevin, sensing her train of thought, digs a skinny elbow into her ribcage. “No,” he hisses, and Charlie sighs wistfully. The kid knows her too well for his own good.
“Next time, I’m not bringing you,” she retorts, even though they both know it’s an empty threat. “Always spoiling my fun.”
The blonde finishes up with the man she’d been talking to and turns in Charlie’s direction, smiling a closed-mouth, friendly but standoffish smile. But when her eyes find Charlie, there’s a barely perceptible shift as she scans her up and down, and when she meets Charlie’s gaze again, her brown eyes are warm.
“Hi,” the blonde says, her smile widening. “What can I do for you?”
Oh wow, she’s cute. Really, really cute. Like, devastatingly, distractingly cute. “Uhh, hi!” Charlie gestures up at the swords on the wall. “I was just, uh… coming over to admire your Ice replica. I collect swords - well, I collect a lot of things, swords being one of them. Are you a swordsmith or -” Kevin stabs a finger into her ribcage again and she slams her mouth shut, realizing she’s babbling. Shut up, Charlie!
The blonde grins, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t make the swords, no. It’s my friend’s shop. His brother usually helps him out at these things but he’s got some big test coming up at school and Dean wouldn’t let him take the time off from studying to come help, and I’m the only one of his friends who knows enough to take Sam’s place.” She extends a small hand. “Jo Harvelle, freak with a knife collection.”
Charlie giggles and accepts her hand and shakes. “Charlie Bradbury, veteran Comic-Con goer and collector extraordinaire. And this is my friend Kevin Tran.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jo replies, smiling warmly at them both. Kevin waves back with a small smile.
“So,” Charlie asks casually, “is this your first Con?” ‘Do you come here often?’ Really? Charlie can feel Kevin shaking with barely suppressed laughter at her side and she wants to facepalm so bad for letting that cheesy line slip out of her mouth.
Jo nods, and if she notices the distinctly awful pickup attempt, she doesn’t react beyond pressing her lips together to hide another smile. “It’s interesting. I don’t even know what half these things are, but Dean made me watch Star Wars when I was a kid and like every year after that on his birthday and it’s pretty awesome.”
“Nice,” Charlie says, “a Star Wars fan. You’re okay.”
“Good to know,” Jo says, laughing. She studies Charlie’s outfit, the gaze appraising. “I like your costume.”
Charlie beams, lifting a hand to adjust the leather cord she’s wearing as a choker. “Actually, here we call it cosplay,” she says, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Since you’re new, I’ll let it pass- this time.”
“Thanks,” Jo replies, laughing. “So who are you cosplaying as?”
“Zoe Washburne.” Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline at Jo’s blank expression. “Firefly? Serenity?” Jo shrugs apologetically and Charlie’s mouth falls open. “Seriously, you’ve never seen Firefly?” Jo shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re missing. All the characters are amazing, especially the women. And Zoe is bad. Ass.”
“Looks like it,” Jo says, her eyes skating over Charlie’s costume, lingering on the replica shotgun at her hip. “You ever shoot a real one of those?”
Charlie shakes her head. “Only if you count first-person shooters. Call of Duty is my jam. Have you?”
Jo grins, her blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders as she nods. “Yep. Been shooting since I was a little kid. My dad taught me.”
“Really?” Charlie’s eyes light up. “Swoon.” She freezes, eyes widening like a deer in the headlights. She really needs a better filter. “I mean - uh, that’s cool.”
Kevin snorts at her side, covering it with a cough when Charlie turns to glare at him. When she looks back at Jo, she’s laughing, too.
“You should try it sometime,” Jo says. She pauses, considering, flipping the little knife in her hand absently, with an easy familiarity that maybe shouldn’t be hot but totally is. “I know a place just outside of town. Maybe I could show you.”
Beside her, Kevin mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “unbelievable”, and wanders to the next booth to look at the etched metal plaques the vendor has lined up on his table.
Charlie gapes for a moment as Jo presses her lips together in amusement, laughter in her eyes. “Did you just -”
“Ask you out? Yeah.” Jo shrugs, grinning. “So what’s it gonna be?”
Charlie reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pen. With her other hand she grabs Jo’s wrist, turning her hand palm up and scribbling her phone number on it.
Jo grins across the table at her. “I guess that’s a yes then?”
“Yes,” Charlie says. “I, uh… better get back to Kevin before he passes out from hunger. And I guess you better get back to work?”
The blonde follows her gaze down the table to where a guy in a Doctor Who t-shirt and a couple of Hobbit cosplayers have gathered and sighs. “Yeah, I guess I’d better.” She grins. “Come see me tomorrow. Dean can hold down the fort for fifteen minutes while we get some mini-donuts.” She winks, and turns to greet the waiting customers.
Charlie sighs happily, unable to hold back her grin as she ducks around a couple of teenaged girls wearing flower crowns and heads over to the table where Kevin is waiting. “So, lunch?” she asks nonchalantly.
Kevin looks up from the plaques, rolling his eyes at her. “You are unbelievable. I can’t believe how easy it is for you to get dates.”
Charlie shrugs one shoulder, smiling. “What? I can’t shut this down.” She slings an arm around his neck. “Don’t worry, kiddo, your day is coming. Stick with me, young Skywalker; I’ll show you the ways of the Force.”
Her friend groans. “Why do I have to be Luke? Can’t I be Han Solo?”
“Sorry Kev,” Charlie replies, winking. “If anyone’s Han Solo in this universe, it’s me. I’m the one with all the game.”
This time, she does give him a noogie.
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Date: 2014-04-10 09:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 12:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 01:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-10 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-11 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-11 09:16 am (UTC)I love the way you used weapons to merge Jo's world with Charlie's at a con. Ha!
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Date: 2014-04-11 10:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-11 03:55 pm (UTC)