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Title: 5Ever (Chapter 2 of ?????)
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: tikistitch
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran, Michael, Crowley, Charlie Bradbury
Warnings: Boy Band AU. Yes, really. Cursing
Word Count: ~1000 this chapter
Summary: This chapter: Kevin gives his manager, Charlie, the 411 on 5Ever.
Notes: Like the last chapter, this is totes crack. Like I said last chapter, I'll just keep doing this as long as it amuses me. Absolutely not guarantee I'll ever finish it.





“Step aside, bitch!”

Kevin dropped his Xbox controller and emitted something suspiciously similar to a girlie scream as Charlie plopped down on the carpet next to him and switched off the monitor.

Kevin ripped off his headset. The disappointed squeals of hoards of fangirls fizzled through the headphones. “Dude! I was totally livestreaming my Skyrim!”

“Just a safety tip,” said Charlie, who was popping a disk into the DVD player. “And I say this as your manager. Winter is coming. You might wanna go out and get one of those, yanno, IRL girlfriends.”

“I had a girlfriend,” Kevin muttered. “Didn’t work out.” He grabbed a box of Fiddle Faddle and began to munch in a rather sullen manner.

“We need to do some serious oppo research here,” said Charlie, clicking one of the half dozen remote controls scattered over the carpet to bring up an image of the dreamy individuals who comprised the band 5Ever on the Michigan-sized flatscreen that dominated one wall of Kevin’s living room.

“Oh god, not that duet!” Kevin wailed, hands flying up to shield his ears. “Don't play that fucking duet. It’s all I’ve been hearing. Ain't no mountain high enough to keep me from youuuuuu!” he mocked, in a warble that ended up scattering Fiddle Faddle bits all over the room.

Charlie snatched the box of delicious candy-coated popcorn away from him. “The number one download on iTunes,” said Charlie. “And the number one pirated track worldwide. I should know, because I uploaded it.” She grinned in triumph.

“Is that how it got out?”

“What do you mean?” Charlie crunched over a mouthful of popcorn. “Mmm. Did you ever try Screaming Yellow Zonkers, or was that before your time?”

“Crowley would never release something like that. I mean, it doesn’t sound like Balthazar sweetened it up, like he usually does. It actually sounds like Dean singing.”

“Hey, good insight. Let’s continue.” Charlie brushed off her hand on her jeans and picked up the remote.

“Let’s not.”

Ignoring him, Charlie clicked, freezing the video. “OK, Prophet Man, take me though the personnel. And pretend I’m like some geeky lesbian who spent her teen years hacking gaming software instead of reading Tiger Beat.”

Kevin huffed and crossed his arms.

“Look, you wanna go back to being the moptop tenor working for Crowley, or are you Kev the Prophet?” Charlie pointed to the screen, where the paused screen depicted attractive dark-haired man who had just danced to the front of the stage. He was wearing an outfit that showed off his finely sculpted abs.

“Michael. The heartthrob,” sneered Kevin, reaching out his hand for the snack box.

Charlie tugged it away. “And…?” she asked, shaking the box.

“He’s not the most talented. Or the best looking. Or the best dancer. Or anything!”

“But?”

“Well, just look at him! You look up ‘Malignant Narcissism’ in a dictionary and you get that dude’s picture.”

Charlie peered at the screen as if she expected a pop-up screen with the DSM-5 to appear. “Hrm.” She clicked the remote.

Kevin used the diversion to snatch back his snack food. “Oh, it’s Dean,” he chomped. Kevin couldn’t help a fond smile coming to his face.

“So? What’s the 411 on Freckles?”

“I dunno. The guy’s like a cipher inside a riddle inside a soft taco. I always got the feeling him and Sam had had a rough life somehow, but all I ever got from Dean was attitude. He’s a drinker, I know that.”

“He has a problem?”

Kevin tossed up a popcorn bit and caught it in his mouth. “I think he’d been in and out of rehab before. But I dunno. What kind of place could hold that guy for long? He knows how to pick locks, you know.” He shrugged, seeming to warm to the subject. “He writes some, but Crowley won’t let any of his stuff on the records. Doesn’t fit the image, or something.”

“Oh, frustrated artist. This is good stuff.”

Kevin pointed to the screen as a man who looked like the human equivalent of a Labrador puppy shambled into view. “And that’s Dean’s brother, Sam. Don’t fuck with him, Dean will rip out your spleen. If you’re looking for dark secrets, Sam’s your boy.”

Charlie has her elbows to her knees, head in her hands. “Do tell!”

“Heh. Secret girlfriend. He and Jess have been together since they were like thirteen or something. And stupid in love. Crowley won’t let him admit it, since he says it’s bad for the band’s image.”

“His dark secret is that he’s happy?” Charlie was peering over her glasses.

“Hey, you asked.” A bearded man danced to the forefront. “Benny, I don’t know him. Decent voice, I guess.”

“Tell me about my dreamboat!” urged Charlie as a slim, dark haired man stepped to center stage.

“Wait, I thought you were totally gay?”

Charlie sighed. “Dude, he’s pretty. What’s his deal?”

Kevin chewed on that for a bit. Literally. He licked his fingers. “Cas. Just Cas. I think he’s Michaels’ relative. Cousin or something. He smokes.”

“Wait, that’s it? That’s all you have on my next husband? He smokes?”

Kevin shrugged. “Marlboro Menthols. And he won’t take lead vocal.”

“He won’t sing lead?” Kevin shook his head. “Why not?”

“No clue. And he patters around after Dean like he’s some kinda lost puppy.”

Charles squinted at the screen. “Yeah, him and Dean. I can see that.”

Kevin reared back. “What? Him and Dean like him and Dean?”

“Yeah.”

Kevin shook the Fiddle Faddle in consternation. “No way Jose!”

“But they’d be cuuute!”

“Not in ten krilliion years!”

“Krillion isn’t a real number,” Charlie sniffed. “And I still think they’re totes adorbs.”

“You can’t ship them, they’re real!”

“Sure I can! I can even make up a name! Like CasDean or something….”

“Ugh.”

“KEVIN!” came a voice.

Kevin and Charlie cringed. Kevin hid the box behind his back. “Yes, Mom?” he asked as his mother strode into the living room.

“Uh, hello, Mrs. Tran,” said Charlie.

“Kevin, have you been studying for your MCATs?”

“Uhhhh…”

Charlie leapt at the DVD player and ejected the disk. “Oh, yeah, he was here studying, and I interrupted him. Sorry.”

“Two hours today, Kevin,” said Mrs. Tran, tapping her watch. And then, nodding curtly at Charlie, she stalked out of the room.

“Dude,” Kevin whispered to Charlie. “You’re supposed to defend me against her. Like, tell her I’m not going to med school. I have the number one track!”

“You had the number one track. Defend yourself, Prophet. That’s your mom. She scares the living crap outta me.” Charlie dumped the DVD in her bag and retreated, grabbing the Fiddle Faddle box as a closing gambit. “Later, bitches.”

Kevin sat on the floor a while longer, and then, tossing the controller onto his Xbox with a sigh, went and picked up an organic chemistry textbook and, slumping onto the couch, opened it up. He looked up and down the room, and then reached under the couch cushions and plucked out a magazine. He eagerly spread the latest issue of Tiger Beat over his textbook and began to read.
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