SIX DEGREES KARAOKE (Tammy Award Party for wolfwithaguitar)

[head_psychic]

Taking a quick look around Shawn nods in approval. Yeah, this is definitely it. The place where Randy's gonna get his well-deserved celebration big time. Renting the karaoke bar had proved even easier than he had imagined: Just some observations about certain employees and dirty deals, neatly packed into a breathtaking vision and the owner was even more than willing to make the place available. Acknowledgment of gratitude, which, of course, Shawn couldn't decline. That would have been totally rude.

The SIX DEGREES karaoke bar is a big place that somehow managed to stay comfy nevertheless. There are round tables near the bar as well as lounges in the corners. The bar itself is more of the modern kind but without looking too freaky to keep looking at it after five beers. The stage is actually perfect. Shawn checked it out, everybody should be able to see it.

It's all there, everything is ready so he hums a happy little tune as he waits for Randy and the guys to show up for the soundcheck. Not that he particularly cares if someone else decides to drop by early. If nobody shows up at all it doesn't really matter as well. Because it would only take him one call and approximately ten minutes to turn the event into something even more official than it already is and find enough random people on the street.

Yeah. No matter what, this is going to be awesome.

Comments

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"I'm far more interesting to talk to," Ray replies unfazed, grin still on his face.

Until they both just leave. Walk the hell away from him, and the smile drops down into a thin line.

Well.

That's just rude.

Guess he'll have to find the free drinks himself then.

But then there's a hand on his shoulder and he's peering around and it's like a flashback to Vegas; poker table all set up, so many guys, so many guns in that room, except for this dude standing right next to him, dealing hands, doing his job, being kind of normal.

He almost groans right there. He can't believe he ever thought of Shawn as normal.

“It’s Ray,” he corrects, just as unfazed, (at least, outwardly - he can’t help the flip-flopping in his stomach at the sight of a guy who reminds him so much of what he used to be) his gaze following the hand with a look of disdain. If Shawn hadn’t have removed it as quickly as he had, Ray would’ve been forced to pry it off his shoulder himself, one finger at a time.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"Tssssray." Shawn replies, his face turning absolutely serious, nodding as if he means every word he's just saying. Which maybe he is. "Yes. Got it."

Then the grin is neatly back in place. "So! Had a good trip? How about a drink?"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"No," Ray answers, out of habit. He doesn't enjoy long trips, never really has done, and most of his end up being a distaster anyway. So it's easier to just say no automatically than actually stop and think about it.

He bends his head towards the bar and hugs his arms across his chest. "It better be free," he grunts, casting a quick glance around the room for any more women.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it is. Consider it your Cheerupantipawn-drink!"

Shawn looks around. "Hellooo!" All the waiters look quite busy. It's getting fuller by now and the bartender probably makes sure he's getting enough 'spare supplies' for his shelves. "Oh, whatever."

With a swift movement he swings himself over the counter behind the bar. "What do you want?"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, whatever," Ray mumbles, leaning on the counter but somehow still managing to keep his arms crossed tightly in front of him. Being in Shawn's company makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and so not in the good way. Well...okay, maybe - he shakes his head - so not in the good way...

His chin juts out towards one of the refrigerators behind the bar. "Gimme a beer, will ya?" He's very away that he's keeping his palms well hidden from Shawn too.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"On it!" Shawn grins and cheerfully hands him the bottle even though the detective's body language jumps right into his face and scratches his face bloody with the claws of obviousness. Which could use some trimming. Please, even Gus might have been able to point out someone was getting waay too defensive here.

"So, how's life treating you these days? Apart from dammit, where are all the women!! ..." Shawn blinks in fake irritation and shakes his head. "Whoa. Now where did that come from. Sorry. Where was I?"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray has to close his eyes against the inane stupidity he can feel radiating off the guy behind the bar.

"You're very funny," he grinds out, deadpan, and obvious from his tone that he doesn't mean a word of it. The beer is left on the counter, Ray's arms stay in their place, but he shifts his feet so his weight is resting on the other foot. "Life is fine." No way is he going to give anything away that Shawn could possibly in one of his "psychic" turns to try to convince him that he's genuine.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"And you're very cranky," Shawn replies. "It's vaporing the air, like too much sweet perfume. Which wouldn't be so bad if your defensiveness wasn't adding that musky scent. Mixed together that's a real horrible odor of leavemethehellalone, which isn't exactly the best choice for a party. Dude, cheer up! I'll give you a 'Randy-fan!' button for free!"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"I don't even know who this Randy guy is," Ray's eyes go wide and emphatic before he swipes at the beer bottle and brings it to his lips. "Nobody's gonna pay for those things."

"And if you weren't here, then I wouldn't be so musky." He fails to add that if Shawn weren't here in the first place, then neither would Ray. Talk about a sick sense of curiosity taking the better of him.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"You mean, I make you musky?" Laughing, Shawn leans onto the counter and flashes him a grin. "Wow, I can't remember the last time someone told me something like that."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray should have seen that coming. He's the sharp one, the witty one, the one with a comeback for every eventuality. He covers his shock up pretty well, he thinks - only a slight cough into the neck of the bottle, a few drips of beer escaping from the corner of his mouth and a split-second deer-caught-in-headlights expression - and then his wiping the back of his hand over his lips to catch the drops and setting his drink back down.

He hopes Shawn didn't attend any 'Reading Body Language 101' classes whilst he was studying for a fake psychic certificate. "You're one of a few," he coughs again behind a fist and sends Shawn an indiscernable look in response to the grin. "What're you drinking?"

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"Think I'll have the same." Shawn shrugs, letting Vecchio off the hook and sits down on the counter, legs dangling against empty boxes underneath.

Taking a sip his eyes dart around the room for a second as he makes sure nobody needs anything. He's still the host after all. Besides, a few interactions he just spotted could be filed for possible psychic moments later. He just has to make sure he doesn't mix them up. Meaning, he should be careful with the alcohol.

Not that Shawn doesn't drink, he does but he's going to make sure he doesn't end up drunk. He shivers inwardly when he remembers the first time in his life he got really drunk, the hard, stupid way, the way only a teenage boy does when he tries to be super-cool like that for the first time in his life. God, all the images, his mind suddenly not working anymore at all, no way to focus and all the time more and more impressions clashing down on him... no, Shawn really didn't intend on getting too drunk.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray tips his bottle towards Shawn's, faltering for a second before he clangs the necks together. "To me," he toasts, turning his face up to Shawn's with a faint look of defiance.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"Dude! To you," Shawn agrees with a grin. "And the musk," he adds impishly.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray rolls his eyes on a sigh but nevertheless, very, very discreetly, gives himself a sniff.

Nope. No musk. Just cologne.

Phew.

"So," he sighs again and looks behind him at the stage and the people milling about. "Tell me again why I'm here?"

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"You are here, because Randy - by the way, you should really get a button - won a Tammy Award, scoring as the hottest musician. And because he's a little shy and modest I decided to take matters into my own hands and threw a party for him," Shawn explains good-humored.

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Won't go with the Armani," Ray mutters, eyeing the badge stuck to Shawn's chest. Why would Ray (or anyone in their right mind for that matter) want to walk around in public with a picture of someone they don't even know on them? Ray's brain just does not compute.

And instead of asking the most obvious question: WHO THE HELL IS RANDY?! he goes for the more obsure one. "And you're paying for all this?" He gestures round the room, at his beer, at the guests.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"What? Oh no." Shawn shakes his head. "We solved a crime here a few weeks ago and the owner promised me a sponsored party evening to show his gratitude. And then I saw that Randy had won this amazing Award and that he didn't plan to celebrate properly so I just called him up and he was all for it."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray's eyebrows climb off his head. "Amazing award? It's a Tammy, pal, not a Grammy."

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"So what?" Shawn shrugs. "Dude, nobody else here in this room scored as Hottest Musician. That makes Randy the Hottest Musician in the room. He deserves some credit for that!"

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Nose scrunches up Ray's face. "Bet I could do better than him," he grunts, under his breath.

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

"Ohh, really!" Shawn's face lights up. "Alright, you're on."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Insanity pills. That's what he's on. But dammit it, there's something instilled in Ray that just doesn't let him back down from a bet. Only in the most dire circumstances would he do that. Like if he could die from it. And the most that could happen tonight is social-suicide, but hell, he won't be seeing these people again so why not?

He sniffs and glances back at the stage. "Terms?"

[head-psychic.livejournal.com]

Following his gaze Shawn thinks for a moment, the smirk still on his face. Oh yeah, this was definitely where he wanted this party going.

"You. And me. Up there." He points at the stage. "Duo."

[r-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray's jaw drops an inch at a time, until it's somewhere hovering above the floor. "No," he pushes away from the bar, "no way. A duet? With you? You've gotta be kidding me." He gives Shawn a look like he's just grown an extra head. "Nothing could entice me to sing with you."