Summary: Dean wasn't lying when he said "Two beers and Sammy's singing karaoke
Disclaimer: I don't own them… bummer… or Gloria (which you'll understand in a minute).
"Dean, come on. Just leave me alone!"
"Nope, sorry Sammy. There's no way you're getting out of this one." Dean grabbed Sam's arm, effectively pulling his out of this desk chair, away from his psychology textbook.
"You're a man now, little brother. And I'm going to show you how to have some fun."
"And the fact that Dad isn't here has nothing to do with your timing, right?"
"Of course not. It's not my fault he isn't here tonight. But I'm older, so I'm right. Now shut it and come on." Sam rolled his eyes, deciding to save his energy for the fight later. And since when does fighting against Dean ever get him anything other than a sore shoulder and a bruised ego.
Twenty minutes later, the black Impala pulled off the Midwest road into a parking lot. Sam looked up at the glowing neon sign.
Bob's Bar and Grill
Friday Karaoke Night
Sam's eyes flickered between the sign and Dean's smiling face. "Dean, I think you need to go back to school 'cause your math abilities are just sad. It's my 18th birthday, not my 21st."
"Not according to this it isn't." A driver's license fell into Sam's lap, complete with his picture and claim of 21 years of age. Sam picked it up, shaking his head.
"Gee Dean. I don't know what to say. Hope you got a gift receipt." Sam's eyes rolled, filled with sarcasm.
"Come on little man. It's time you have some grown up fun. And that pretty much means drinking and girls, so the least I can do for your birthday is get you one of those tonight. 'Cause honestly, you are gonna strike out with the ladies with your freakish height."
Dean jumped out of the car and closed the door behind him, cutting the conversation short. Sam sighed. Of course Dean was smart enough to take the keys, forcing Sam to either sit in the car alone until Dean was finished for the night or he could go in and try to have a bit of fun with his older brother for once in his life.
"What the hell. It's only a beer."
Sam opened the bar door, almost checking on the smoke-filled air. How those girls could sing –Damn, look at those girls!- at the top of their lungs on the karaoke stage was beyond the young man. Another quick glance found Dean at the bar, nursing a beer with a second bottle next to him. Sam slid onto the stool. Dean grinned into his bottle, pushing the second into his brother's hands.
"Drink up. It's time to find your sea legs little brother."
Sam grinned, raising his almost empty beer bottle to his lips. He had just seen Dean get shot down for the second time that night and the look on his face was priceless. And that warm fuzziness covering his body sure was nice. It would have better if the damn room stood still for just a second. He didn't want to spill the beer. 'Cause the beer is… The beer is pretty. It glows.
"Sammy?" Sam turned his head, finding Dean staring at him, trying desperately to keep a laugh from bursting from his mouth. "You doin' okay there?"
Sam grinned stupidly, nodding his head a few too many times. His eyes were swimming, making him sway slightly on the stool. Dean bit the inside of his cheek. Don't laugh at him. He's doin' the best he can.
"Yeah, sure." Sam went to take a drink, but instead stared at the amber liquid dancing in front of his eyes. "I really like this beer." He raised the bottle to his lips, intending to take a swig. Hey, why is my shirt wet?
"Dean." A gasping sound made Sam turn again to his brother while blinking, trying to clear his head. Dean was holding his chest, the laughter finally breaking out.
"Dude, how many did I have?" Sam looked at the very short line of bottles in front of him. "Man, I only had like…" He squinted again. Wait, where did those shot glasses come from?
"Waaaaaaaait a second."
Sam turned an accusing eye at Dean, who was barely keeping himself from laughing out loud again. Being the seasoned drinker Dean was, a shot or two barely gave him a strong buzz. But apparently, it was enough to land Sam flat on his ass, which was exactly were he was at the moment, having toppled sidewise while trying to count his drinks.
"Ooooowwwwwwww…" Sam glared at the chair as if trying to understand why it decided to suddenly dump him out. Must be possessed. Fucking chair. I should… shoot it? No, that's not right… KICK IT! Yes! But who would be stupid enough to possess a stool?
"Sammy, I'm pretty sure the chair isn't possessed." Dean reached down, pulling his brother onto his feet. Sam swayed slightly, trying to bring Dean's face into focus. Wait, did Dean just? He did!
"Dean," he whispered excitedly. "You just read my mind! You have super powers." Sam giggled, trying hard not to slur his words too much. "Dude, you… you are totally… you're a freak! You… you… yoooou caaaaaan reeeeead mmmmyyyyyyyy miiiiiiiiind." Sam collapsed against the bar in a laughing fit. He was the only one amused though, as Dean rolled his eyes dryly.
"Yeah. My amazing mind reading powers were only slightly aided by your ability to speak out loud."
Sam suddenly stopped laughing, confusion clouding his eyes. "Wait… what?" Dean chuckled and shook his head. Dang little brother. You sure do get talkative with vodka in your system.
"Sammy, go wait at that table. I'll get you as soon as I pay the tab." Sam nodded, trying to find the table Dean pointed to while watching as Dean pulled out his wallet to pay.
"I'll just… yeah, I'll go to that table. See ya!" Dean chuckled again, pulling his focus away from his drunken brother while trying to wave the bartender over.
Sam got about half way to the table before stopping. Sam scrunched up his forehead, tilting his head slightly to the side. Where was I going? Oh, right. Dean's getting the car. I'll just… yeah. What were we talking about before? Oh, right. My amazing abilities to… uummmm… wait… oooooo, look at that. Right, those abilities. I'll show him… I can do just as good… well…wow, my English sucks."
With Dean's back turned to his brother, Sam stumbled away from the table, moving toward the barely lit alter which held the young Winchester's attention. He leaned forward toward the television screen, pleased to find he knew the words and so pressed the large flashing button.
Dean tightened his lips in frustration. Maybe if the bartender stopped flirting with Miss Fine Ass Blonde… damn she is hot… he would get a bigger tip. Another annoying song began playing in the background, making Dean roll his eyes as his tolerance of tone-deaf drunks singing began to grow short. I hate karaoke night. Finally, he caught the man's eye, signaling him to come get paid.
"Time to go back to the hotel Sammy." He slapped a few bills in the bartender's hand, who looked at him like he was crazy.
"You okay to drive man?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Dean nodded his head to Sam's empty table. "It's my bother I'm worried about. I'm getting him out of here before he starts puking or doing something he'll regret."
The man shifted his eyes and a smile broke his face. "Uhhhh, I think you're a bit late with that one, son."
"First I was afraid, I was petrified.
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side."
Dean's eyes widened as the tone-deaf voice reached his ears. No. Frickin. Way.
"But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong."
Slowly he turned around, his hunter's instincts doing nothing to prepare him for the sight before him.
"I grew strong
I learned how to carry on"
Dean fought the urge to gorge out his own eyes as he found Sam standing on the stage, microphone in hand. His hips thrust forward and sidewise, his head bopping in time to the music. "No" A horrified whisper escaped Dean's lips.
"Oh no, not I
I will survive
As long as I know how to love
I know I will stay alive"
"Oh Sammy." Dean shook his head, glancing around and smiling at the facial expressions on the other drunk and happy customers.
"I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I'll survive, I will survive.
"I am so sorry I only have my camera phone on me." Dean's smile was pure evil as he pulled out his phone and started clicking away.
It only took 30 seconds before Dean took pity on the audience, not sure how much more off-key, slightly slurred Gloria Gaynor they could take –Or me for that fact-, even if his little brother was getting into it enough to…
"Whoa Sammy. Let's keep the shirt on, shall we? I do not need to be traumatized for the rest of my life." Dean jumped forward toward the stage, quickly pulling Sam's raising sweatshirt back down while effectively disarming his brother of the microphone, despite the crowds cheers of encouragement at the unexpected striptease. Caught unaware, Sam lost his balance, slumping against his brother's steady frame. Slowly, Dean lowered him down.
"Dean, I was singing. I was singing Gloria." Sam's voice slurred. Who would have guessed that the floor would be so comfortable? "Did you like it? It was for us… like an inside joke kind of thing. 'Cause, you know. We have survived a lot of… stuff… lots of bad guys… not that they are guys, but you know… And we never really talk about how much we love each other." He felt his eyes begin to close, not wanting to deal with the pesky part of staying awake anymore.
"No Sammy, you gotta stay awake for a bit longer." Dean shook him slightly. "Just help me get you to the car, okay?"
Sam nodded, not completely sure what he was agreeing to. With a grunt, Dean pulled his brother up, still doing most of the bodily support. He flashed a quick grin to the applauding audience before stumbling out the front door, brother in tow. Somehow, Dean managed to open the car door while still supporting Sam.
"Okay, little bro. One foot, then the other." Sam stared at the ground stupidly. Slowly, he lifted his foot, promptly falling into the Impala's front seat face first. His chest lifted with a giggle.
As gently as he could, Dean pushed Sam's legs -When the hell did they get so long?- into the car, practically running around to the driver's seat before Sam could do something stupid, like…
"Sam?" Dean put his hand on his brother's head.
"Don't throw up, 'kay? Dad'll kill me if this car smells like puke."
"M'kay." A few seconds passed. "Hey Dean?"
"I don't like drinking." And with that, Sam fell asleep, face scrunched against Dean's thigh.
Dean pulled out of the bar parking lot, the evil smile cracking his face again. Even if Sam doesn't remember tonight, my phone sure will.
Hope you like it. I thought it was time for a funny fanfic 'cause all I write are angsty stuff. And who doesn't love a drunk Sammy? Please R&R because my muse for my other stories has left and I need inspiration so I can finish them. Help! Have a great one!