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 Angelo practically bounced up to the karaoke stage, grinning, and turned to beckon Jean-Phillipe. "Come on up, husband. I know just the song." Jean-Phillipe generally trusted Angelo's plans, even if he didn't share them - they always seemed to turn out for the best. But something about the combination of karaoke and size of his husband's grin made him a touch nervous. "How much are we going to embarrass ourselves this evening?" he asked as he ambled up more slowly. "No more than anybody else", Angelo promised cheerfully if perhaps not entirely reassuringly. "That's what karaoke's for." He fiddled with the machine, looking through its catalogue for what he wanted. "I suppose." Jean-Phillipe was reasonably sure that he'd get a stern look from more than one person if he 'accidentally' blipped the karaoke machine and tried to blame overuse of his powers. He'd had enough time and food and pampering from Angelo to be recovered, after all. The brassy opening notes of 'Livin La Vida Loca' came through the stage speakers, and a half-smile crept onto his face, as if despite his grumpy affectation. Ricky Martin saw plenty of play and remixing in gay clubs, after all. "Ha, I saw that." Angelo took his hand. "You're enjoying yourself - " And then the first words popped up on the screen and he switched to singing. "Tell no one," Jean-Phillipe murmured. It was directly into the microphone, and he heard at least a few chuckles from the floor. |
