"Never mix sake bombs and karaoke... and angels. I'm just sayin'."
"Yeah, well you shoulda said," Dean moans, "Yesterday." Bobby can only shrug, but smiles when Dean puts his head back down on the table. Bobby has always gotten a disturbing amount of pleasure out of Dean and Sam's (self-inflicted) pain.
Sam would say as much if speech wasn't so difficult with what felt like two bags of cotton balls crammed down his throat. Unlike Dean, Sam had gone easy on the sake bombs while Cas had been really going at it. But then the karaoke started. Eventually Sam decided he might as well be as drunk as the others - he couldn't stop their shenanigans and alcohol cut back on the feeling of (vicarious and direct) humiliation.
Sam is obviously an idiot. If he had stayed sober, he could have weathered the night's embarassment, remembered what else went on (and held it over Dean later), and he wouldn't feel like Death was back and had made Sam his bitch in the meantime.
"I have never experienced a worse sensation than this," Cas says from somewhere on the floor. "Except, possibly when I was smited by my brothers."
"What about the time you drank that liquor store?" Sam has to ask. His words are mostly intelligible.
"That was better."
"Yeah, well, as sorry as I am that you boys are having such a terrible morning," Bobby says, not sounding sorry at all, "I really don't think a hangover is at the top of your list of problems."
That doesn't sound good. Sam would go so far as to lift his head to say that it doesn't sound good, but Bobby's left the kitchen table and it doesn't seem worth it for Sam to muster the energy to go and find him.
Anyway, a moment later, Bobby returns with Sam's laptop. He sets it on the table in front of Sam and hits a key. Club sounds, whooping and yelling - and, above it all, a very poor rendition of "Lord Be My Treasure" being met with unfavorable reactions - comes out of Sam's speakers.
"What is that?" Castiel asks from the floor, in a grim voice.
Sam sits up. He groans. "YouTube," he says.
"I- What?"
Bobby looks in Castiel's direction. "Folks don't really take to hearin' gospel hymns in karaoke bars, son," he says.
Sam frowns. "How did this even-" Then he sees the name of the poster on the YouTube page. samsangelman26. Sam sighs. "Gabriel..." The implications are too much for his alcohol-addled mind. He can only imagine what he'll see if clicks on 'View This User's Other Videos'.
"Course, they didn't much take to you and Dean's duet either," Bobby tells Cas. "But then, I don't suppose Madonna meant for two men to sing that song together. Least not in public."
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Sake-Bombing Angels (Suck at Karaoke): SPN, Team Free Will, PG
Date: 2010-07-02 01:22 am (UTC)"Yeah, well you shoulda said," Dean moans, "Yesterday." Bobby can only shrug, but smiles when Dean puts his head back down on the table. Bobby has always gotten a disturbing amount of pleasure out of Dean and Sam's (self-inflicted) pain.
Sam would say as much if speech wasn't so difficult with what felt like two bags of cotton balls crammed down his throat. Unlike Dean, Sam had gone easy on the sake bombs while Cas had been really going at it. But then the karaoke started. Eventually Sam decided he might as well be as drunk as the others - he couldn't stop their shenanigans and alcohol cut back on the feeling of (vicarious and direct) humiliation.
Sam is obviously an idiot. If he had stayed sober, he could have weathered the night's embarassment, remembered what else went on (and held it over Dean later), and he wouldn't feel like Death was back and had made Sam his bitch in the meantime.
"I have never experienced a worse sensation than this," Cas says from somewhere on the floor. "Except, possibly when I was smited by my brothers."
"What about the time you drank that liquor store?" Sam has to ask. His words are mostly intelligible.
"That was better."
"Yeah, well, as sorry as I am that you boys are having such a terrible morning," Bobby says, not sounding sorry at all, "I really don't think a hangover is at the top of your list of problems."
That doesn't sound good. Sam would go so far as to lift his head to say that it doesn't sound good, but Bobby's left the kitchen table and it doesn't seem worth it for Sam to muster the energy to go and find him.
Anyway, a moment later, Bobby returns with Sam's laptop. He sets it on the table in front of Sam and hits a key. Club sounds, whooping and yelling - and, above it all, a very poor rendition of "Lord Be My Treasure" being met with unfavorable reactions - comes out of Sam's speakers.
"What is that?" Castiel asks from the floor, in a grim voice.
Sam sits up. He groans. "YouTube," he says.
"I- What?"
Bobby looks in Castiel's direction. "Folks don't really take to hearin' gospel hymns in karaoke bars, son," he says.
Sam frowns. "How did this even-" Then he sees the name of the poster on the YouTube page. samsangelman26. Sam sighs. "Gabriel..." The implications are too much for his alcohol-addled mind. He can only imagine what he'll see if clicks on 'View This User's Other Videos'.
"Course, they didn't much take to you and Dean's duet either," Bobby tells Cas. "But then, I don't suppose Madonna meant for two men to sing that song together. Least not in public."
"Oh Lord."
Sam's never heard Cas blaspheme before.