We Started With a Whisper

Everybody talks (Neon Trees) 1

|| It started with a whisper ||

{Castiel's POV}
---
"Hey baby won't you look my way"

The words flow out like air flows out of my body. Never knew entertainment could be used to make a living.

At least $100 every night, usually $400.

And I was told I can't sing.

"I can be your new addiction.
Hey baby what you gotta say?"

The lights, the rhythm, just the overall experience, beats every job out there.

"All you're giving me is fiction."

When you got a solo spot at The Roadhouse, you can basically pretend you're the lead at a concert. The jumping, the fist pumping, the passion is poured into the crowd.

"I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time,"

Jo says that I have the attitude, and that's what keeps everyone coming back for more.

"I found out that everybody talks
Everybody talks, everybody talks."

That's good, right?

"It started with a whisper," I sing, throwing the hand, that isn't holding the microphone, into the air.

Right as I finish those last lyrics, a man walks in.

And let me just say, I called dibs mentally.

This man hadn't been here before, I would've known.

He had sandy blonde hair, and was definitely taller than me, bow legged, and overall confident.

My eyes locked with those fan fiction green eyes, and I sang the next few lines.

The job never said anything about changing pronouns.

"And that was when i kissed him,
And then he made my lips hurt.
I could hear the chit chat.
Take me to your love shack.
Mamas always gotta back track,
When everybody talks back"

We kept eye contact throughout the chorus, his lips slowly forming a grin, that eventually turned into a smile.

"Hey honey you could be my drug,
You could be my new prescription."

I sing, sporting a smile at the end of the three syllable word. The handsome man shakes his head, and walks over to the bar and starts talking to Jo.

"Too much could be an overdose."

I smile at the crowd, I got them hooked. Too bad this is my last song tonight.

Money is flying into the box at the front of the stage, a few hundred dollar bills could be seen.

"All this trash talk make me itchin."

I shimmy, you know, that thing all those teenage white girls do to make their boobs appear bigger and bouncier? I don't even know, and frankly, I don't want to either.

"Oh my my
Everybody talks, everybody talks
Everybody talks, too much"

I freeze, foot in air, mic in hand, and when the cymbal crashes, my foot stomps the ground, and my hand flies down to my mouth where I start again.

"It started with a whisper,
And that was when i kissed him."

I sing, head thrown back, eyes scrunched closed.

You know that feeling when you have your eyes closed but you can still see lights? Exactly what this lighting is doing to me at the moment.

Laugh. I dare you to tell me that bright lighting doesn't effect them at all.