#CAS. 31. WHITE LATINE. HE / SHE. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

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just say yes

The latest installment of this verse... or 5 times Dean tries to propose to Cas.

Dean bites his lip as he scans the menu. What the hell is branzino, and where the fuck are the prices? He flips the flimsy piece of cream-colored paper over, but no dice.

Thank god there’s a steak listed among the five lone entrees. It’s probably five times his normal dinner price tag, but Dean already made peace with putting off buying that 30 year anniversary Rush album. It’ll still be there after his next pay check.

Cas eyes him over the top of his own menu. “What are you thinking?”

Marry me.

Dean doesn’t say that, though. He has plans. Keep his trap shut until dessert. Tell Cas he’s going to hit the head. Pull a waiter aside and ask for two glasses of champagne. Return to Cas. Hopefully not shit his pants as he proposes. Drink champagne. Go home and have fantastic engaged sex.

Dean has high hopes for the last part of the plan.

“Dean?”

Belatedly, he says, “The steak.”

Cas hums. “That does look good.” He ducks back behind his menu. “I was thinking of getting that too. But maybe not.”

Dean takes a hasty sip of water. “Get the steak if you want it, man. We don’t go to places like this often.”

“I think I’ll get the honey glazed salmon.”

“Sounds good,” Dean says lamely. He drinks more water. At this rate, he won’t have to fake the bathroom run.

Aren’t they supposed to have alcohol by this point? They’ve been sitting at their fancy-ass table in this fancy-ass restaurant for nearly fifteen minutes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have picked the newest five-star restaurant to propose to Cas. He’s already on edge from the pressure, and the pristine white tablecloth isn’t helping. He can already see five ways he’s gonna stain it. There are several forks in front of him. For fuck’s sake, this place has an actual chandelier. Dean hadn’t honestly thought they existed outside of billionaire mansions and Disney movies.

The live music is nice, though. A sedate piano tinkles in the background, barely audible over the buzz of polite dinner conversation.

Dean catches a glimpse of himself reflected in the dark windows to the street. He looks a little sweaty, but not as nervous as he feels, thank god.

This is stupid. He shouldn’t even be nervous.

They’ve talked about marriage before. They’re adults in an adult relationship, so popping the question out of the blue would go down like the time Dean swept Cas away for a surprise camping trip. Turns out, Cas did not like camping. Which Dean would have known if he had asked anytime in the past four years.

But… that marriage conversation was two years ago. Dean wasn’t ready then; they both weren’t. Cas was still in a bad place with Jimmy and Claire, and Bobby had just died, so they weren’t about to roadtrip to Vegas anytime soon.

Now, Claire can have a civil dinner with her parents, and the hole Bobby left in Dean’s life can go unnoticed some days.

The deal is, Dean can’t chicken out tonight. He already told Claire to make herself scarce. She can sleep at her parents’ or at Krissy’s, Dean doesn’t care, as long as she is not crashing on their sofa when they get back from dinner.

Dean would rather read a hundred plagarized student essays on The Very Hungry Caterpillar than admit to Claire he failed to ask Cas to marry him.

So, proposal time.

The waiter comes by with their drinks and takes their orders. Conversation is a little stilted, but hopefully Cas chalks it up to Dean being outside his comfort zone in this fancy-ass place. There’s no steady thunk of darts hitting a board or clack of pool balls in the background to put him at ease. Just that lame piano.

Cas makes porn noises over his salmon at first bite, which Dean totally doesn’t get. It’s fish.

“How’s your steak?” Cas asks as he surfaces and dabs his mouth with his cloth napkin.

Dean belatedly slices off a piece of his meal and pops it in his mouth. A generically bland compliment dies on his tongue. Jesus Christ - that’s some good cow. It practically disintegrates before he can chew. “Great,” he tells Cas honestly.

Cas hums in contentment.

“And since you’re practically at third base with that salmon,” Dean starts, “I take it-”

“Oh my god!” a woman’s voice squeals behind them.

Dean reflexively turns his head in the direction of the commotion. A few tables over, near the center of the restaurant, a man is down on one knee, and - son of a bitch.

Dean watches, his mouth hanging open, as the woman shouts, “Yes, of course, yes!” Waiters walk past their table with a whole fucking bottle of champagne. People at nearby tables fucking clap.

Dean resolutely turns back around to face Cas, at a loss for words that aren’t extremely loud swears.

“Isn’t that nice?” Cas says mildly.

“Yeah, very nice for them,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Of all the goddamn nights. Of all the goddamn restaurants. What are the goddamn chances?

Dean slices into his steak with extreme prejudice. If he could murder the happy couple, he would. With zero regrets.

Fuck it all, Claire’s gonna be insufferable.

A CHARMING B&B IN VERMONT

Dean wakes up delightfully cozy with Cas spooning him from behind. No memory foam, but the bed is delightfully springy anyway. It was definitely what they needed after a full school day and a nine-hour road trip. Luckily, the owner of the bed and breakfast, a charming older woman actually named Mrs. Butters, was happy to wait up for their late check-in last night. She even had hot cocoa waiting.

Dean had held out a slight hope they could christen their room before they turned in for the night, but Cas passed right out before Dean turned on the lights. Poor guy had to deal with three sets of angry parents, and it was only the second week of school. Something about how their supposed-genius kids should be in AP Latin instead of the Fun Latin class - aka the one for dumbass seniors.

The mid-morning sunlight filtering in from behind the plaid curtains casts everything in a warm glow. The room itself is beyond charming. There’s a legit fireplace next to the bed, and they’re currently nestled under a patchwork quilt. The wood panelled walls give a distinctly rustic feel to the place, despite the reasonably sized television screen mounted on the far wall.

Dean turns over in bed so he’s facing Cas instead of the door. He resists the urge to poke him awake, and instead prods with a gentle, “Cas.”

Cas grumbles wordlessly. Fucker doesn’t even open his eyes, although Dean can tell from how his breathing changes that he’s awake.

“Cas.”

Cas wrinkles his nose and shoves his face into the pillow. “What, Dean?”

Dean can barely make out the words, but he gets the gist from the million times Cas has done the exact same thing. “I smell bacon.”

Cas’s eyes slit open. “So?”

“Don’t you want bacon?”

Cas huffs, and Dean can tell the exact moment he resigns to waking up. “Then go get the bacon. Nobody’s stopping you, Meat Man.”

Dean wiggles in bed, jostling the whole mattress. “Come on, babe.”

“I was sleeping.” Cas raises his head to look squint out the window. “It has to be before ten am. Since when are you a morning person?”

Since today is the day Dean is going to propose.

Instead, Dean reminds him pointedly, “Bacon.”

“Ugh,” Cas groans as he sits up. “I expect at least a blow job after breakfast if we’re leaving bed this early.”

Dean slaps his ass and jumps out of bed before Cas can retaliate. “Up and at ‘em!”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Cas.”

* * *

Claire 11:02 Did you ask him yet? If he said no I’ve got chunky monkey waiting

Claire 11:31 That was a joke Uncle Cas will say yes Theres no way he wont

Claire 11:40 If you’re not answering because of sex don’t tell me

Dean sighs as his phone lights up with Claire’s latest text. In the bathroom, Cas hurls again.

Dean 11:41 No proposal

The bubbles showing Claire’s typing start almost immediately.

Claire 11:41 Are you serious? He’s not goin to turn you down!!!

Dean 11:41 Food poisoning

Claire 11:42 HAHAHAHA

Dean scowls at his phone.

Dean 11:44 Not now, Claire.

Claire 11:44 Wait Seriously?

Dean 11:44 We think it was something he ate at breakfast

Claire 11:44 Oh fuck I’m sorry for laughing

Dean rereads her text. He hasn’t ever received a straight-up apology from Claire before. Unsure of how to respond, he sets down his phone and gently pushes open the bathroom door. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Cas, slumped over the toilet and looking like death warmed over, raises his head an inch. “It seems to be easing up.”

“Really?”

Cas vomits into the toilet again. He groans.

“Shit,” Dean mutters as he crouches next to Cas. He rubs his back with one hand. “Do you think you can get some water down?”

Cas nods, so Dean straightens and fills a glass next to the sink.

As Cas drinks, Dean runs a hand through Cas’s sweaty hair. His forehead has a sickly sheen to it, and the back of his neck feels hot.

“Dean -” Cas breaks off to cough the water right back up into the toilet. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Dean says quickly as he refills the glass. “Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“But you had all these plans,” Cas moans as he takes the water to try again.

“We’ll do ‘em some other time.” He wets a washcloth and wipes down Cas’s forehead.

“Before Thanksgiving,” Cas rasps, “we’ll come back. I don’t want to miss the leaves changing.”

“Of course,” Dean says soothingly. He moves the washcloth to the nape of Cas’s neck. “On the bright side, you’ve been puking for, like, an hour. There can’t be much left.”

Cas, the dramatic bastard, nearly brains himself on the toilet seat with the force of his next hurl.

HOMEMADE DINNER

After the disastrous fancy restaurant and B&B, a homemade dinner has to be the way to go. They’ll be in their own goddamn house - that has to cut down on the number of things that can go wrong.

Dean spends a whole week deliberating on what to make. He could do his usual burgers and fries routine, Cas’s favorite, but it should be special.

He settles on beef wellington. Pie for beef!

It’s a bitch to make - both because puff pastry from scratch is no joke, and hiding his first experiments from Cas means inventing increasingly convoluted reasons to get him out of the house. And, sure, every Youtube chef and Great British Bake off contestant has said store-bought puff pastry is fine, but Dean doesn’t want fine, he needs perfect.

Dean picks a day when Cas has Model UN afterschool. It’s in the middle of the week, but at least Cas is guaranteed out of the house until six at night.

By 5:58, Dean is ready. The Wellington is cooling on the counter; the red wine has been breathing (whatever the hell that does) for the better part of an hour; and he’s showered and made himself presentable.

His phone pings at six pm on the dot.

Heart sinking with foreboding, Dean taps the screen.

Cas 6:00 I’m going to be late for dinner. There was an accident with chemistry club a few minutes ago. The building had to be evacuated.

Dean 6:00 Are you OK?

Dean takes a moment to hammer the heel of his hand against his forehead. One fucking break. That’s all he’s asking for. One goddamn evening to go right.

Cas 6:00 Yes, and the kids are too. They’re airing out the halls now, but we won’t be let in for another half hour.

Dean picks up the wine with the hand not holding his phone.

Dean 6:01 What time do you think you’ll be home?

Cas 6:01 7:30 maybe? I’ll keep you updated.

Dean swigs back a gulp straight from the bottle before he can answer. Fuck this.

Dean 6:02 Great! I’ll order pizza when you’re on your way back

Cas 6:02 Meatlovers?

Dean 6:02 Unless you’d like something else

Cas 6:02 No thank you :)

Dean flips on a recorded Jeopardy! episode as he cleans up the kitchen and texts Charlie. He has a free dinner waiting for her if she can hightail it to his place in the next hour and never speak of it again.

HOMEMADE DINNER #2

If Dean is anything, he’s stubborn. John Winchester raised no quitter. Try, try, and try again. And try a fourth time, when the first three go sideways.

Burgers, this time. They don’t need a days’ worth of prep. And they’ll go over well.

“Dig in,” Dean says as he sets the plate down in front of Cas.

“This looks delicious, Dean,” Cas says sincerely as he picks up his burger.

Dean waits, and he can see the moment Cas tastes the molten cheese stuffed in the middle of the patty. His eyes go wide with surprise.

“Like it?”

Cas nods vigorously and inhales the rest of his burger in record time.

“There’s enough for us to have thirds,” Dean says smugly.

Cas smears ketchup all over patty number two, and beams at him. “These make me very happy.”

Dean laughs. “That’s the goal-”

Cas’s phone rings.

Dean falters.

Cas stares at him expectantly, waiting for Dean to continue.

“You should get that,” Dean says, his shoulders slumping as he sets his burger down. It’s probably a bad sign he was already half-expecting things to go south. “It’s probably important, or whoever it is would’ve texted.”

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Cas protests even as he reaches in his pocket to pull his phone out. “It’s Claire,” he says, baffled, before he picks up. “Hello?”

Cas sets down his half-eaten burger. He listens, his brows slamming down forbiddingly as Claire’s voice gets louder and louder, but still not loud enough for Dean to make out actual words. Silently, Cas takes his napkin off his lap and pushes his half-empty beer in Dean’s direction. Finally Cas says, “Yes, of course, Claire.”

Dean frowns as Cas lifts his gaze up to meet his. “Jimmy and Amelia?” he mouths.

Cas shakes his head, speaking into his phone, “Does Kaia need a pick up from the hospital?”

Dean goes cold. Kaia was actually one of his favorite students. While she was in his class, she won a Scholastic Gold Key and honorable mention for two of her horror novellas and always did the reading. But Dean and Cas haven’t seen her since she broke up with Claire the summer before college.

“Is she okay?” Dean asks quietly.

Cas’s mouth thins. He gives a short nod.

Dean sighs and picks up the plate uneaten burgers. He can probably reheat the patties. The fries won’t keep, though, so he leaves the plate in front of Cas. He shoves a few in his mouth and gets to his feet.

He’s halfway through cleaning the frying pan when Cas gets off the phone with Claire.

“Are you heading out?” Dean asks gruffly while he gives the iron a particularly hard scrub.

“Yes,” Cas rumbles as he wraps an arm around Dean’s waist. “I’m sorry to cut dinner short.”

“Hey, it’s Kaia. ’Course we gotta help.” Dean forces an understanding smile on his face. “I’ll make up the couch while you pick her up?”

Cas squeezes him gently before moving away. “Thank you.”

“You got time for the cliff notes on what happened? Why’d you get the call?”

Cas leans against the counter next to the sink. “Kaia was in a car accident. She’s a little banged up, but mostly fine. A few bruised ribs and a possible concussion.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “You know Kaia was never especially close with her foster family, so Claire got the emergency call.”

“Huh.” Dean grabs a plate to clean. “It’s been two years since the split.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure what their situation is. I know Claire was surprised. She’s already in her car, and she should be here by midnight. Hopefully she recognizes Kaia’s injuries,” he frowns, “and they won’t try any… any ‘hanky panky’ tonight.”

Dean laughs, and if it’s slightly higher than normal, Cas doesn’t seem to pick up on it. He grabs Cas and kisses him square on the mouth. “You are ridiculous. Nobody says hanky panky. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Cas scowls. “They have to be well past kissing at this point.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, that ship has long sailed, dude.”

Cas throws his hands in the air. “We don’t have enough sleeping surfaces to separate them.”

Dean sets the dirty plate down to face Cas fully. “Do you really think they’ll get back together? Kaia broke Claire’s heart not too long ago.”

Cas throws him a look like he wonders where the hell Dean’s logical brain has flown to. “Are you asking if I think couples can get back together after a harrowing break up?”

“… no.”

Cas shakes his head ruefully. “You’re more like Claire than I ever was, and you took me back.”

“Huh,” Dean wipes his hands off on a dishtowel, “you might have something there.”

“You do call me the smart one,” Cas says as he pushes off the counter and heads to the doorway. “It has been known to happen.”

“Smartass,” Dean corrects loudly as Cas grabs his coat and keys.

“Semantics.” Cas doubles back to kiss Dean a proper goodbye, and it’s just as electric as it was when they were seventeen. Cas tastes like Dean’s cooking, and he’s been letting his stubble grow out, the short hairs rasping against Dean’s palm as he cups Cas’s cheek.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says as he draws away.

Dean grins. “I know.”

Cas huffs an almost-laugh as he heads back towards the door. “Now who’s the smartass?”

IN BED

Cas, the son of a bitch, falls asleep before Dean can wring out a second orgasm out of him. Such a godamn shame. Just goes to show, they really aren’t teenagers anymore. At least Dean got to use the new vibrator he bought for the occasion and the edible panties.

Dean flops back in bed. Maybe he should put the proposals on pause. Clearly, marriage isn’t in the cards. He can be a bit dense when it comes to Cas and him, but there’s dense and there’s denial.

It’s been two and a half months. Five proposal attempts. They’re nearly halfway through October, and he’s no closer to getting a ring on Cas’s finger than he was in late August, sweating bullets in that stupid fancy restaurant.

He can’t keep planning and failing to propose to Cas every other week. One, he can’t handle the stress and constant brainstorming. And B, he’s way behind in writing college recommendations and grading his freshman’s essays on Animal Farm.

Cas isn’t going anywhere. Dean isn’t going anywhere. So Dean can cool the proposals for now and start fresh in January.

SCHOOL ASSEMBLY

“I hate these,” Dean mutters to Benny. He frowns across the top rows of the bleachers where the seniors are supposed to sit. There are a few notable faces missing, but nobody that belongs to Dean’s homeroom, so he couldn’t give less of a shit. Below them, sit most of the juniors, and pretty much all of the sophomores and freshmen.

“It’s thirty minutes, brother,” Benny says, patting his arm. “You’ll live.”

“Shows what you know,” Dean grumbles back as Jody strides to the middle of the gym, microphone in hand. He asks Benny, “Do you know what this one’s about? Bullying? Cliques? Hugs not drugs?”

Benny shakes his head.

Jody sighs loudly into the mike. Clearly, she wants to be here just as much as he does. “Thank you all for coming,” she starts like any of them had a real choice. “First things first, Halloween is in two days, and while costumes are allowed and encouraged, don’t be racist.” She grimaces. “God help me, I don’t know why I still have to say that. If you are unsure if your costume is racist, it probably is. Wear something else. Secondly…”

Dean tunes her out. Instead, he scans the bleachers again, this time looking for Cas. He should be with the other sophomore homeroom teachers, but there’s no sign of him. Dean frowns. He can’t remember the last time Cas played hooky. And never without Dean. Dick move, Cas.

Movement at the edge of the gym catches Dean’s eye, and he watches, puzzled, as two students roll out one of the old projectors. The overhead lights turn off.

Is Jody seriously going to make him sit through a slide show? They’re wasting a prefectly good Friday morning on a goddamn PowerPoint?

The projector flips on, and the first photo is… of Dean.

What the fuck? His mouth drops open in horror. In the picture, he’s in his junior year of high school - he can tell from the hair - with a bunch of people he hasn’t seen in fifteen years. Plus Cas, who’s at the next table over in the cafeteria, head bowed over a book and slightly out of focus.

There’s a click, and text scrawls along the bottom of the screen, Destiel Met in Edlund High School Fifteen Years Ago!

The projector flips to the next photo, this time showing Dean’s senior yearbook picture.

More than a handful of students peer excitedly in his direction, undoubtedly hoping for a reaction.

Scowling, Dean cranes his neck to search the crowd for Charlie’s flaming red hair. She’s the only one who refers to the two of them as “Destiel”. Everyone else uses their names like sane people.

But the projector clicks to a photo of Cas, and Dean can’t help getting distracted. In the picture, Cas is alone at a table in the library. God, he was cute back then. His cheeks were a little fuller, and his hair was curlier. He still had the same intense blue-eyed stare, though. Patented Cas.

It all started with a tutoring session. Young Mr. W needed help in Latin, and our future Latin teacher, Mr. N, was up to the task!

Dean is going to kill Charlie. He tries to get to his feet - maybe she’s hiding behind Jo or something. But Benny’s hand grips his upper arm, holding him in place. “Don’t,” Benny says softly.

“What?” Dean demands as he tries to shake Benny off and fails. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

“Stay.” The corners of Benny’s mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Watch.”

Dean huffs a breath and turns back around. If it was anyone else, Jo or Charlie, he wouldn’t trust a word out of their mouths. Benny, though, he’s not the type to make Dean sit through this without a good reason.

But that’s all ancient history. Destiel really got started five years ago, in this very gym.

The projector shows a picture of their class reunion, when Dean met Cas after ten years of no contact. They’re standing pretty close together (but that doesn’t mean much with Castiel What-Is-Personal-Space Novak), and they appear deep in conversation.

Since then, they have been inseparable.

Dean and Cas at a softball game. Dean and Cas at homecoming. Dean and Cas at GSA’s pride party.

Here’s to fifteen more years of Destiel!

The students clap and cheer with more than a few laughs.

Musical Interlude! flashes in front of a picture of Dean playing guitar to a group of pajama-clad students at last year’s Senior Lock-In.

The lights flip back on, and Dean blinks as his eyes adjust. By the time the spots have cleared from his vision, the projector has been wheeled away, leaving the main floor of the gym empty.

A staticky crackle echoes around the gym. And - is that Def Leppard playing on the speakers?

As the intro to Rock of Ages plays, the cheerleading team troops out from the locker rooms.

They start a routine Dean’s never seen before. To Rock of fucking Ages.

The cheerleaders sings along with Joe Elliot, “What do you want?”

Dean’s mouth falls open as the entire high school chants back, “I want rock and roll. Long live rock and roll!”

By the time they get to the “Rock of Ages” chant, all the students are on their feet, clapping along with the beat and cheering.

The song dies down soon after, and Dean, a broad smile on his face, turns to Benny. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I dig it.”

Benny laughs. “Good. He’ll be pleased.”

Dean’s just about to ask who he is (he’s 99% he knows), when Cas walks out from behind the bleachers.

Cas takes the microphone from Jody. He coughs nervously, waiting for the students to settle back down. “Thank you,” he says to the cheerleading team. “That was... awesome.” He glances up at the assembled students and teachers. “Dean-” he pauses as the cheers and clapping start up in earnest “-can you please come down here?”

But Dean’s frozen to the spot.

Benny gives him a not-so-light jab with his elbow. “Go on.”

Dean shakily gets to his feet and makes his way to the gym floor, and he swears his legs are about to give out from under him.

“Alright, you got my attention,” Dean says with forced bravado. “What’s up, Cas?”

The students hoot and holler.

Cas reddens as they die down again. Clutching the microphone in a death grip, he says, “Dean, we have been together for a number of years.”

Dean grins, a wonderful, all-consuming giddiness filling him the longer he stands in front of Cas. “I know, dude. I was there.”

The students laugh and someone, probably Jo, wolf whistles.

Cas swallows. “I wanted to do this here, where we first met, where you first asked me out on a date, where we had our first kiss.”

“Don’t tell ‘em about all our firsts on school property,” Dean says in a stage-whisper, “or Jody’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

Over a fresh round of student laughter, Jody puts her head in her hands. Donna, the school guidance counselor, pats her a few times on the back.

“Dean Winchester,” Cas says, and, shit, his hands are shaking. “I have loved you for more than half my life, and I look forward to far more than fifteen years by your side. Will you marry me?’

Dean’s not stupid. He had a strong hunch, ever since Rock of Ages played - aka the cassette he put in the Impala the first time he took Cas for a drive fifteen years and a lifetime ago - that this was what Cas was leading up to.

He’s mostly surprised Cas had the guts to pop the question this way. There was a reason Dean tried to keep his proposal plans mostly to the two of them. One of them is practically a social hermit, and it’s sure as shit not Dean.

“Just say yes, jerk!”

Dean spins around, nearly tripping over his own feet in surprise. Fuck, that’s Sam. His giant of a brother is hovering right outside the gym’s double doors, beaming at the pair of them. Claire gives a little wave from where she’s half-hiding behind him.

Dean turns back to Cas. He can’t think about Sam right now. Or Claire. Or the five hundred students with their eyes on them.

Only Cas.

“Cas,” he says, and it feels like the whole room is holding their collective breath, none more so than Cas, who looks like he’s about to pass out. “Man, I’ve loved you since I was seventeen. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Cas lets out a shaky exhale of relief, and Dean laughs. He takes the microphone from Cas’s now slack grip, steps all the way into Cas’s personal space, and kisses him.

The cheers from the assembled students are nearly deafening.

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #teacher dean #teachers au #teacher castiel #profoundnet #established relationship #fluff #the story of us verse #5+1 fic #rae writes fic

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theworstbob · 8 years ago

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yellin’ at songs: june, week two

the songs that debuted on the 6.10.2017 and 6.9.2007 editions of the billboard hot 100 discussed herein with an appropriate enthusiasm

6.9.2007

6.9.2007 15) "This Is My Now," Jordin Sparks 18) "You Give Love a Bad Name," Blake Lewis 66) "A Broken Wing," Jordin Sparks 80) "I Who Have Nothing," Jordin Sparks 99) "Time of the Season," Blake Lewis

So these are five performances from American Idol that America liked enough to pay for. I'm sure other people paid for Blake Leiws' version of "This Is My Now," and bless those nice people for believing in something. Jordin Sparks is probably one of the most talented people to ever win Idol; given how well she performed and how young she was, I'd argue she's the fourth-best winner. (Obviously, I'm not here to besmirch Kelly, Carrie, or Fantasia. Candice, Ruben, and Caleb are awesome, but like Jordin was 16.) I get why we don't hear much from Jordin these days, pop music is fickle and so few names in the 2007 list appear on the 2017 list, but she should've had more. Blake, yo yo yo, you know what, dawg, I think, hey, I think "You Give Love a Bad Name" is one of the all-time Idol moments, one of the few performances I still remember to this day, like there's no singing for a third of the performance that's goddamn amazing THAT DRUMMER THO, but he should've been bounced Top Three at the latest. I know I came here to review pop songs and not season six of American Idol, but these songs weren't hits, you weren't driving down the street blastin' a live performance of a 40-year-old British invasion jam, I'ma do what I want heck y'all.

30) "Big Things Poppin' (Do It)," T.I.

T.I.'s in a weird space in the rap game where he was one of the biggest names for a hot minute, there's not a soul in America that doesn't know "Live Your Life" or "Whatever U Like," but if you're making your list of the best MCs of all time, you're crazy if you put him in the Top 10. Hell, it'd be hard to put him in a Top 50. Maybe top 100, but there’s been nearly 40 years of rap music. T.I.’s fine, but I’m not sure I can’t name 100 rappers better than him, or who advanced the genre more. This song is an example of T.I.'s above-averageness: he does just enough to make it memorable, that hook gets stuck in your head for ten years and never leaves, but there's nothing in this song I can point to as being uniquely T.I. Like, the first T.I. song I ever heard had a hook from a Jay-Z song, y'know? It's a nice song, I had a fun time revisiting it, but I can't imagine I would've made my way back to this moment were it not for this project.

54) "Tarantula," Smashing Pumpkins

...I should like this? It's rock veterans making a solid rock song? If I have "I Don't Wanna Stop" in the top 20 I should probably have felt this more than I did? But. Here we are. I thought it rocked, but I also think several buttrock songs by bands that weren't way more important in the '90s rock, so the song needed to do more for me than that, needed to hit that "I Don't Wanna Stop" thing, and, ugh, is this expectation? Is this lingering bias against Smashing Pumpkins working here, and not an honest assessment of the song itself? I don't think Billy Corgan's a good person, but he knows how to construct a song, and hey, if I'm giving Shakira credit for being a Latin music pro, I should give Billy Corgan for credit for making a nice song I mostly enjoyed, however many reservations I have about enjoying it. Ugh, fine. The guitar player whose name I probably should remember given that Smashing Pumpkins are a thing did work. I can't deny him his credit, unless I fail to remember his name, which, oops.

76) "4 in the Morning," Gwen Stefani

The Wikipedia entry for this song claims this a 1980s-inspired midtempo synth ballad, and, um, I've heard E MO TION at least 30 times. This is not E MO TION. This belongs nowhere near E MO TION. This would've been cut from Side B. How dare you sully the nice name of 1980s-inspired synthpop. How DARE you.

83) "Beautiful Girls," Sean Kingston

This bass does work. I can appreciate the nice bass in this song while thinking the rest of the content is trash. This song has a verse about how Sean Kingston went to jail in '99. What the even hell even. It's a far stranger song than I could have imagined, and I remembered the hook makes reference to Sean Kingtson being suicidal because girls are pretty.

95) "Lip Gloss," Lil Mama

...I love this. Look. Look. I didn't expect to form this opinion, and you know it. I didn't expect to be entranced by this "Grindin"-for-Kidz-Bop beat. I didn't think Lil Mama was gonna be that decent on the mic. I didn't think I would find the lyrical content to be any dumber than anything else that's ever been on pop radio. (”Something Just Like This” is in the top ten. Tell me this song’s dumber than that. Go ahead. “Spiderman’s control.” Tell me that line has more impact and weight than “All the boys be jockin’/They chase me after school.”) I didn't expect any of this. But here we are. I love "Lip Gloss," the song we all made fun of ten years ago. Like this is legit. This is not "Friday," this is not something I enjoyed purely as trash, this is something legitimate, something worth defending. Will it change the world? No. Am I sure I'm not just reacting to a vision of high school that is fun and carefree in a world dominated by media in which high schoolers are either getting raped or planning a massacre? Not entirely! But. I. Love. This. Song. It's nice and I like it. I don't care what this says about me, this song is great, and y'all can go get hecked if you have anything bad to say about this delightful little treat.

96) "Make Me Better," Fabolous ft./Ne-Yo

Very "last song of a unit of writing." It's not bad or good, it just sort of exists, so I can listen to it and check out, like, Alright! We will have either made jokes about or wrung our hands with self-seriousness over six pop songs, don't need to do anything special with this one, just shoehorn in the 6.9 acknowledgement in the first sentence and we'll be done in two! But f'real I don't have a ton of nice things to say about this song. Just standard Timbaland trash, with Ne-Yo doing his best to salvage it and an occasionally-interesting rapper raising an eyebrow at a challenge but remaining seated.

The Top 20 is poppin’. The Top 20 is cool. 20) "U + Ur Hand," by P!nk (1.13.2007) 19) "Doe Boy Fresh," by Three 6 Mafia ft./Chamillionaire (1.20.2007) 18) "Get Me Bodied," by Beyonce (5.26.2007) 17) "Lip Gloss," by Lil Mama (6.9.2007) 16) "I Don't Wanna Stop," by Ozzy Osbourne (5.26.2007) 15) "Stolen," by Dashboard Confessional (4.21.2007) 14) "Beautiful Liar," by Beyonce & Shakira (3.31.2007) 13) "Cupid's Chokehold," by Gym Class Heroes ft./Patrick Stump (1.13.2007) 12) "The River," by Good Charlotte ft./M. Shadows & Synyster Gates (2.10.2007) 11) "Say OK," by Vanessa Hudgens (2.17.2007) 10) "Alyssa Lies," by Jason Michael Carroll (1.13.2007) 9) "Never Again," by Kelly Clarkson (5.12.2007) 8) "Get Buck," by Young Buck (4.14.2007) 7) "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going," by Jennifer Hudson (1.13.2007) 6) "Thnks fr th Mmrs," by Fall Out Boy (4.28.2007) 5) "Candyman," by Christina Aguilera (1.13.2007) 4) "Because of You," by Ne-Yo (3.17.2007) 3) "Umbrella," by Rihanna ft./Jay-Z (4.28.2007) 2) "Dashboard," by Modest Mouse (2.17.2007) 1) "The Story," by Brandi Carlile (4.28.2007) 2017 be jockin’. It chases me after school.

6.10.2017

(42) "Strip That Down," by Liam Payne ft./Quavo

I'm actually kind of impressed that the individual members of One Direction each have solo projects significantly different from one another's. Like, Harry's doing a weird Queen thing, Niall's doing a basic white-boy soul thing, ZAYN is doing something shitty, Louis is havin' some Cheetos or whatever who cares, and Liam's actually made a trashy, dumb, fun pop song. I dunno, I didn't expect to be sitting in my apartment on 31 May 2017 realizing I liked Liam's solo career the most, but here we are. Kid made a less gross Jason Derulo song. I can appreciate a fun three and a half minutes. (Also: Quavo is sort of the 2017 T.I. He's ubiquitous. I have heard at least ten of his verses this year. I can't remember a single word from any of them.)

(43) "Deja Vu," by Lauren Duski (66) "Money on You," by Chris Blue (92) "The Dance," by Lauren Duski

For as long as they can wring ca$hdollars out of selling iTunes singles, The Voice will never die, even if they never end up producing a bona fide superstar. Of course, The Voice doesn't exist to find the next great superstar; it exists to help superstars win trophies, which is a weird vaguely dystopic twist on the reality singing competition genre. (Think of how many of the auditioners come from nothing and have made some amount of sacrifice for one chance to impress a millionaire with their mouthsounds. It's kinda fucked up!) I think Chris Blue has a decent shot at having one genuine hit; I'd stop short of superstar, but I think this nation could stand to fuck with a dude who can pull off Janet on live TV. (iTunes slept on "Rhythm Nation. That's one of those Eurovisiony heights The Voice can occasionally hit.) Lauren Duski's road to stardom is easier but also not; country music is wide and welcomes all with a recognizable name, but at the same time, I've heard her perform three ballads competently the last two weeks. The country music game is run by women who can fuck those ballads UP, y'all. I wish these kids the best and hope I see Chris Blue pop up here in a couple months.

(46) "Swish Swish," by Katy Perry ft./Nicki Minaj

In 2014, Bryce Harper hit a home run in the playoffs off Hunter Strickland. He admired his home run for a touch longer than is custom; one could argue he was trying to assess if it was fair or foul before he jogged around the basement, but facts are facts, he looked at his magnificent fly ball. Though Hunter Strickland's team would win the playoff series and, eventually, the World Series, Hunter Strickland never forgot the insult and harbored his resentment until, in 2017, two and a half years after the fact, Hunter Strickland pelted Bryce Harper with a 98 MPH fastball, finally earning retribution for the insult he suffered in 2014. The reaction from most people in baseball was that Hunter Strickland was an asshole and probably should have let it go, it was nearly three years ago and you won the World Series. Look. Is Tay Tay a good person? Probably not! Does this mean I want to hear a Katy Perry song about a years-old beef I forgot they had? No! But then again, I have never in my life wanted to hear a Katy Perry song, so I dunno, maybe she has the right, point is, Katy Perry makes bad songs and I hate that I started this project in a year where multiple Katy Perry songs were released. A new Carly Rae Jepsen joint dropped last week. I dunno, maybe we might've liked that more? I like it a lot more! I am going to think about the Carly Rae Jepsen song.

(47) "Crying in the Club," by Camila Cabello

This was dope! It's kind of Sia-by-numbers, "Crying in the Club" is a concept I feel I could have arrived at if given five minutes to think of a decent parody of a Sia-type song, but, enh, Sia-by-numbers is still a pretty snazzy pop song. Legit, tho, so I turned on the music video and was already groaning because it was 5:30, not realizing they played a preview of some ballad and not just "Crying in the Club." So there was a solid few seconds where I thought the song transitioned from morose ballad to club banger, and if I'm being real? If this song actually started as a morose ballad that just turned on a dime into the club banger? It might've been my favorite song of the year. I would've been way into that. The vanilla song's fine, I appreciate what it has to offer, but the song I thought it was for three seconds? Amazing.

(76) "Yours if You Want It," by Rascal Flatts

Rascal Flatts is like the music version of Diet Mountain Dew: my mom had it all the time, I'd have a can every now and then if I didn't wanna go to the store for a soda pop, I haven't had it in years, and when I'm 52 it'll be the only thing I drink because it goes down so smooth and gives me more than enough energy to do my yardwork. (Hahahahahah I'm never owning a home GOT TOO MANY IPHONES TO PURCHASE.) Still, it's a country song that isn't preening about how country it is. I'm OK with this. Diet Mountain Dew is a mostly OK drink.

(77) "Most Girls," by Hailee Steinfeld

Part of me kinda wishes Hailee Steinfeld would collab with T Bone Burnett just to acknowledge the fact she was ever in a Coen Brothers movie, and also I want to hear a T. Bone Burnett 2017-era pop song. I think we should sign a change dot org petition to get a T. Bone Burnett-penned joint with a Quavo feature. This is like people got together and said, "Okay, 'Scars to Your Beautiful' had a great message. What if there were a version of that song that didn't suck?" Like, imagine that, an inspirational song that's upbeat. It's nuts.

(94) "Boy," by Lee Brice

oh good a slow boring country song about some basic shit. "there'll be a small town night." goddamnit. i wonder if there's anyone in country music that might've been willing to turn a song like this into an examination on toxic masculinity, like if anyone in country would sing a song to their son about how their father raised them not to acknowledge his emotions and he doesn't want to be that cold to his own son, or let his son not express himself. i think country music as a whole is gonna stay a thousand miles away from tumblr phrases like "toxic masculinity," but i dunno, this song made me think of a song that could be better. it gave me an idea, at least. not that i actually, like, write music, but if i did, i would write country songs about phrases i read on tumblr. "and i swore i wouldn't do this/leave you danglin' like a leaf/'cuz you're the only girl on my mind/i'm none pizza/you're my left beef." get me to a recording studio please.

So Camila Cabello squeaks into the Top 20! 20) "Crying in the Club," by Camila Cabello (6.10) 19) "The Heart Part 4," by Kendrick Lamar (4.15) 18) "Selfish," by Future ft./Rihanna (3.18) 17) "Slide," by Calvin Harris ft./Frank Ocean & Migos (3.18) 16) "Felices los 4," by Maluma (6.3) 15) "Now & Later," by Sage the Gemini (2.25) 14) "Bad Liar," by Selena Gomez (6.3) 13) "DNA." by Kendrick Lamar (5.6) 12) "It Ain't Me," by Kygo x Selena Gomez (3.4) 11) "Craving You," by Thomas Rhett ft./Maren Morris (4.22) 10) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars (3.4) 9) "Chanel," by Frank Ocean ft./A$AP Rocky (4.1) 8) "Either Way," by Chris Stapleton (5.27) 7) "Run Up," by Major Lazer ft./PARTYNEXTDOOR & Nicki Minaj (2.18) 6) "Green Light," by Lorde (3.18) 5) "ELEMENT." by Kendrick Lamar (5.6) 4) "Despacito," by Luis Fonsi ft./Daddy Yankee (2.4) 3) "Issues," by Julia Michaels (2.11) 2) "iSpy," by KYLE ft./Lil Yachty (1.14) 1) "Hard Times," by Paramore (5.13) And not a moment before I bothered to look up if her name was Camila or Camilla! It’s the first one. I know that now. I know one less memory from childhood because I now remember how the pop star’s name is spelled.

Who won the week?

I think I used the descriptor “basic” for every song in 2017, which either means I’m a shitty writer or 2017 didn’t bring the heat. Like, my first impression is to call this a tie because both weeks were kinda bleh, enjoyable in spurts but bleh overall, but you compare the top three for each week: 1) “Crying in the Club” vs. “Lipgloss:” “Lipgloss” by a significant margin 2) “Most Girls” vs. “Big Shit Poppin’ (Do It):” “Big Shit Poppin’,” by a smaller margin 3) “Yours if You Want It” vs. “Tarantula:” ...I can’t fucking believe I liked a Smashing Pumpkins song enough to prove a point about how decent a week 2007 was, but, ugh, I guess I did. (You could sub in “Strip Me Down” for “Yours if You Want It.” It doesn’t matter.) Plus, the Idol performances were better than the Voice performances. (The ones that charted, anyway. Again, we are sleeping on “Rhythm Nation.”) So, good job, 2007.

2017: 6 2007: 5

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