#SamGabeHSAU -

The first thing Gabriel notices upon arriving at the auditions is the sheer number of girls. There's about seven girls to every guy -- more -- and they're all singing or warming up or doing something else that makes Gabriel feel like a rank amateur in comparison. Dude, this is a high school play! What's with everyone acting like they're up for the lead role in the new Lloyd Webber masterpiece?

He looks over at Sam, who's hanging near the back of the auditorium, arms folded over his chest, looking like the longest, lankiest ray of sunshine in the world. He raises one hand to give Gabriel a wave, and Gabriel gulps, smiles halfheartedly in return. He feels woefully underprepared.

Ms. Moseley is standing at the front, consulting with the piano player. After a moment, she turns, and somehow or other the whole place quiets without her making a sound. "All right, kids," she says, "let's get started."

There's an order, a signup sheet, and then minutes after minutes of Gabriel sitting in the uncomfortable, rickety chairs, watching the girls singing "Memory" or "Seasons of Love" or something from some musical about wicked witches. Most of them sound like they have a tin whistle stuck in their throats. A few of them are quite good. There aren't that many boys.

And then it's his turn.

He gets up on the stage and holy crap there's lots of rows of seats out in front of him. Like, LOTS lots. If all of those were filled with people, people EXPECTING something of him, could he give them what they were expecting? Seriously, could he?

"My-- my name is Gabriel Archer," he says, looking down at Ms. Moseley, who is looking at a clipboard. She gazes up through the top half of her bifocals at him, and there's zero emotion in her eyes. "I'm, uh... I'm gonna sing All Shook Up."

The piano player grins. A bit of life flares in Ms. Moseley's eyes. Gabriel swallows hard.

"My hands are s--shaky and my knees are weak," he sings, forgetting to move, forgetting to act like Elvis at all. He's hearing his own voice too much. He's nervous. His eyes catch Sam's and sees the look of consternation on his face, and he cuts off.

"OK," he says, "that's pretty much how I'm feeling right now, yeah."

A titter of laughter wafts through the auditorium. Something in Gabriel's heart perks up.

"Hey, even Elvis got nervous, right?" he says, eyes lifting to meet Ms. Moseley's. She giggles, just for a moment, but between that and the sudden smile that appears on Sam's face, it's enough to fix what ails him.

He rolls his hips forward and smirks at the pianist. "One more time, honey," he says in perfect Elvisese. The pianist has to restrain her laughter.

This time, Gabriel goes for it. He imagines he's in Sam's living room, trying to out-sing Dean, watching Sam's face grow rosier and rosier with joy at each line.

~My hands are shaky and my knees are week
I can't seem to stand on my own two feet
Who do you thank when you have such luck?
I'm in love
I'm all shook up!~

When he looks over at Sam, he sees that perfect shade of pink in his cheeks, dimples perking at the corners of his mouth as he grins and claps.

"Thankya," he says happily. "Thankya very much."

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