"Twenty bucks." Jensen declared, grinning rather drunkenly and slapping two green bills down onto the table.

Nodding his head in beat to the smooth country rock, Jared fixed his gaze on the subjects in question and frowned. A second hand fell down onto the wooden table, this one clutching an empty shot glass.

"Nuh uh. No way, dude. I'd have noticed."

Jensen snorted and groped the table in search of a fresh drink. "Manns, you don't notice anything unless it's got tits like Pamela Anderson and drapes itself naked across your lap."

"I think he just insulted you." Jared supplied helpfully, smiling benignly at the singer Jensen had dragged out with them.

Jason rolled his eyes. "I got that, thanks Padapaddy." Jensen giggled into his drink, plastered, and practically hanging off Jared's arm. Drunk Jensen was funny. Drunk Jensen was pretty.

Wait, what were they talking about?

"Chris." Maybe it was Jared's inebriated mind, maybe it was the light reflecting off the buttons on Jensen's shirt, but Manns was a prissy bitch. And maybe he shouldn't have said that bit aloud…

"Blow me." Was the polite response, and Jensen just giggled harder. Apparently, Jared was the sober one…

Jared ignored him. "Chris?" He repeated.

"And Steve." Jason added.

Jensen leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "Chris and Steve. As in Chris and Steve. Steve and Chris, being, you know…"

"No more vodka for you." He declared, sealing Jensen's half-empty tumbler and draining the contents. He pinned Jensen's hands between his knees to stop him from reaching for another, and regretted it instantly.

"But they are!" Jensen was an adorably annoying drunk. Jared was not going to maul him in a public place. Nope. No way.

"Dude, I lived in a fucking trailer with them for like…a week. I'd have noticed." Jason repeated.

"Then you were too stoned to see your own dick."

Jared's brain finally caught up with the conversation even as on stage, the two protagonists launched into another high-paced song about…rain? The words were pretty, even if they didn't make much sense at the time. He could probably get a detailed breakdown of the musical genius that was Kane from Jensen, but the last thing he wanted was a drunken fangirl squee session from his costar.

"Wait, Chris and Steve are fucking?"

Both Jensen and Jason blinked drunkenly.

With his hands still pinned between Jared's legs, Jensen leaned towards the other side of the table, his eyes fixing Jared with a look usually saved for the mentally unhinged.

"Are you even following the same conversation as the rest of us?"

Jared flushed. "Well I heard the Steve and Chris bit…but….really?" On stage, Steve broke out into a grin as Chris nudged his shoulder between verses. "Well fuck."

"That's what I've been trying to say." Jensen sighed.

Yeah, okay, so Jared could see that happening, maybe, in the right light, if he tilted his head to the …"So who's on top?"

"Chris." Jensen said, even as Jason responded with,

"Steve."

Jensen frowned. "I thought you said there was no way in hell they were together?"

"Hypothetically." Jason amended.

"No big words after the third shot. That's the rules." The rules also mentioned something about blowjobs in the men's room, but Jared was a little hazy on the details. A brief bicker about the various laws drawn up between shots at one of Tom Welling's post season bashes resulted in a narrowly avoided retelling of the time Jared danced on the pool table in a hula skirt.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Somewhere amidst their drunken debating, he'd failed to notice both the end of Kane's jamming session, and the subsequent cheers. With his face slightly flushed from adrenaline, and his hair damp from the heat of the bar, Chris Kane rolled his gaze over each of the three men at the table. Jensen had wormed a hand free from between Jared's thighs, and procured a drink from a passing waitress. Jason looked back as if pondering the mysteries of the universe, and Jared continued to speculate on the nature of the man's sex life...

Steve Carlson followed to stand besides his band mate and stood close enough to Chris for their shoulders to touch.

"Oh my GOD! You are fucking!" Jason yelled, attracting curious stares from the closest patrons of the small bar.

"Told ya." Jensen said smugly, entirely oblivious to the eyebrow of doom directed his way by an irate Christian.

Steve just looked amused.

"Jen…" Chris growled.

"Oh come on." Jensen smirked, once again wrestling with Jared for control of his arms. "It's not like you went out of your way to hide it, how many times did I catch you in the hot-"

Jared managed to slap a hand over his mouth before Chris could turn a more deadly shade of red.

Steve still looked amused.

"He's very drunk." Jared stammered.

"No shit." Chris drawled.

"I better take him home before he starts telling people what Sam and Dean really need two motel beds for…and are you seriously screwing?"

Steve lost the battle with his smile, a full-blown grin blossoming in the face of Chris's embarrassment.

"Not ashamed of me, are ya?" Steve teased.

Chris stopped scowling at Jensen to turn and face Steve.

"Fuck that." He swore.

Jared tipped his head and blinked, but when Chris wrapped his hand around Steve's neck and dragged him forwards for a damn fierce kiss, he could almost totally see them together. Fuck. And also? Hot. Very hot.

Jensen muttered something against his palm that would undoubtedly translate to "I told you so," and Jason's jaw was resting on his lap.

Kane and Carlson broke from their kiss, and Jared marveled at Steve's ability to look entirely serene after having his tongue in another man's throat only seconds before.

Wriggling free, Jensen held out a palm. "You bastards both owe me twenty bucks."

Jason recovered from his shock long enough to throw an arm around Jensen's neck. "You manage to stop puking tomorrow long enough to remind me, and I'll double it."

End. :D