Eugene Korolev

Wincest Wednesdays

for @wincestwednesdays Sept 3rd prompt: Radio

on AO3

“You’re listening to KZSU Stanford at 90.1 FM. I’m Nicole and I’ll be your host for the next hour as we open the lines up for some dedications. This first one is going out to Brad from Angie…”

The coffee shop nearest to his dorm catered mainly to the college crowd and played the campus radio station at a volume that was loud enough to hear when the ambient clatter and hiss and chatter didn’t drown it out.

Sam had developed a habit of studying at a table in the corner, where he had the wall at his back and could see the entire place easily. His father’s voice was still too loud in his head to ignore, barking at him about situational awareness.

But the noise, rather than being distracting, made it easier for him to focus. Like the act of filtering out the activity around him opened his mind up to remembering, cataloging, making connections in the information. Something about habits developed through childhood made them especially hard to shake, and even when he wasn’t trying to read or do school work in various cafes, diners, and restaurants, he would still need to tune out his brother. Dean who’d always had the tv or radio on, laughing or singing along, or sitting silent and brooding (which somehow was always louder to Sam than anything else).

“We’re dropping way back into the 70’s on this next song with Foghat’s I’ll Be Standing By for Samantha from an anonymous caller. Ooh, watch out Samantha, this one’s giving off creeper vibes.”

~~~

“It’s Tuesday again, so you know what that means! Got a special song for that special someone? Our phone line is open for the next hour, 855-723-9010.”

“Triple shot, soy, flat white!” the barista announced as he slid a cup onto the pick-up counter.

Sam scooped it up and headed back to his regular table. Sitting down he pulled out his class notes and laptop. He popped the lid off his coffee, so it would cool faster, and got to work. Handwriting in class then transcribing later into a Word doc helped cement the information in his memory, and digital notes were so much easier to search when he was studying for tests. By the time he was finished, he slugged down the rest of his coffee, which had been room temperature for a while now, and started to pack up to go to his next class.

“For our final dedication today Samantha’s anonymous 70’s rock fan is back! This time he’s requested Zeppelin’s Out On the Tiles. So, Samantha, this one’s for you.”

The driving opening riff hit hard and familiar as Sam pushed through the door and strode out onto the sidewalk. A surge of nostalgia smacked a smile on his face as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and tried his best to look like he fit in.

~~~

“Third Tuesday in a row, we’ve got ourselves a regular caller. Samantha, if you’re out there, here’s Telegram Sam by T-Rex.”

~~~

“Oh, Samantha, we’re back in maudlin territory this week. Your anonymous friend requested Dylan’s If You See Her, Say Hello. Maybe check on the people you know, 10:15 in the morning seems a little early to be that drunk.”

Sam was taking both Latin and Greek this semester since he already had a solid grasp of basic Latin and he was taking it because it was a requirement for more advanced classes. He hadn’t been as well versed in Greek so he spent more time going over his notes and working on his translations.

“Two requests in one show? I think I touched a nerve when I said he sounded drunk. Sam, Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.”

~~~

“Another Tuesday, another dedication to Studious Samantha from your 70’s classic rock fanboy. So here’s Paranoid by Black Sabbath. Sam, your creeper’s got a nice voice but he seems to be going through a manic phase, watch out.”

~~~

“Okay, Samantha, this is the sixth week in a row and I gotta admit, I’m intrigued by your man’s musical choices. This week he’s dedicating Shame on the Moon by Bob Seger to you.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. It was the Seger song that finally made the pattern click. It had to be. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number he knew by heart. It rang twice.

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Your mix tapes? First and last song on each?”

“Took you long enough. Hey, that Nicole sounds hot, think it’s just her voice or…”

“Jesus, Dean. Did you need something or have you really been calling up a college radio station DJ for a month and a half just to get my attention?”

“Just trying to have a little fun, shoulda known you be pissy about it.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while Dean was quiet on the other end of the line.

Finally, Sam heard an irritated huff and then, “Whatever, man. Get back to studying, wouldn’t want to bother you.”

The call disconnected.

Sam sighed and looked at the phone, like he couldn’t believe that was it. He dialed again and it went right to voicemail.

At the beep Sam simply said, “Jerk.” and hung up.

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