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scoops404 · 19 days ago

Note

for the writing prompts: dnf (or dream team) karaoke??

Hi there!! I have fulfilled this prompt. It's not beta'd so don't hate me

Under the cut, ~2K

“You have to sing, George, what are you, a pussy?” Sapnap asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. The music is blaring in George’s ears, the off-key rendition of Defying Gravity grating on his nerves.

“I’m not singing, idiot,” George says, because he knows his boundaries and he simply doesn’t want to.

“Pussy, then,” Sapnap says with an easy shrug, like he’s always suspected it and now it’s confirmed to be true.

“Leave him alone,” Dream says, coming back and placing three drinks on their table. He insisted on buying the first round and if history has shown anything, he’ll likely be buying all the rounds.

George grabs the vodka cranberry and sips it through the little black straw that came with it. It’s tart and heavy on the vodka. He makes a face.

“Can’t sing karaoke, can’t sip his little fruity drink,” Sapnap lists off, being an asshole. “Tell me, what can you do successfully?”

“I can fuck your mother successfully,” George says.

Sapnap’s face turns ruddy, but Dream puts a hand on his shoulder before he can say anything else. “Alright, that’s enough you two. Settle down.”

“He started it,” Sapnap says, childishly. George almost denies it on principle, eager to make sure it’s known that he did not, in fact, start it. Sapnap did by trying to coerce him into signing up to sing in front of a live audience.

Not fucking happening.

“Well, I ended it,” Dream says easily, a smirk forming around his straw like he’s pleased with himself. He takes a long drag of whatever cocktail he ended up going with—some blue monstrosity that was probably the bar’s special or something.

Sapnap huffs under his breath.

“What are you singing, Dream?” George asks, even though he’s already listened to Dream ramble about this for the last week.

None of them want to steal the stage or anything, but Dream was talking about missing performing and then George was finding a way to give that to him—just a once a month bar that does live band karaoke. And it was a plan. George read all the reviews and learned they needed to get there early for seats and to sign up before all the slots were filled.

Dream lists off a few different songs and then stands up, declaring that he’ll figure it out as he’s filling out the form by the DJ booth.

“You’re not going with him?” George asks Sapnap, taking another sip of his drink.

“What am I, crazy?” Sapnap asks, though he should know better. That’s like giving George an alleyoop.

“Do you really want me to answer that? George says.

Sapnap rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of his beer, downing at least half of it. He takes a deep breath when he comes up for air and then belches.

“Gross,” George says, but he’s rather impressed.

“No way am I singing,” Sapnap says. “At least not without like ten more of these bad boys.” He lifts his drink up and cheerses George’s glass, like maybe George wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“And yet you wanted me to?” George says.

“Well, yeah, because that would be funny,” Sapnap says, unashamed. “I was going to film it and put it up on Snapchat.”

“Like I’d let you get free content like that from me,” George says, shaking his head.

The night’s entertainment starts. Dream comes back to the table with a fresh round of drinks, prompting George to chug his last vodka cran so that he can get started on this one.

The first girl to sing chooses a Disney song and George pays little attention to it. Sapnap’s been eyeing a girl across the bar with a black crop top on when he thinks no one is looking. Dream’s foot taps under the table, close enough to George’s that sometimes the sole of his shoe lands on top of George’s foot.

“Don’t mess up my shoes,” George tells him seriously.

“I would never,” Dream promises, crossing his heart with his fingers.

A few more people sing and George drinks another vodka cran for lack of anything better to do. Cell service is terrible in here for some reason, so it’s too annoying to do anything on his phone.

“And now, we have Clay!” The DJ host announces, the cue for the next person to stand up and go onto the stage. George turns to Dream immediately. He’s nervously tapping his fingers, but stands up, finishes his drink, and then winks at George.

“Yeah, go get ‘em, baby!” Sapnap calls, hootin’ and hollerin’.

George shakes his head at Sapnap, but his eyes follow Dream’s form up to the stage.

“Singing the song ‘Spotlight’ by artist Dream, here’s Clay, everyone!”

George’s stomach swoops. He’s singing that song. Here. George can’t take his eyes off of Dream. This is nothing like those concerts George went to, that he performed at, this is so different. It’s so much more intimate—just a group of people getting drunk and Dream—Dream is singing this song that so many people speculate to be about George and—and he’s staring down at George.

Time stops, or so it feels. He’s stuck in the music, in the feeling of the room. Paralyzed and hypnotized by the way Dream’s mouth moves and sings the words that George has wanted so badly to be about him.

Turn off the cameras, now you’re all mine…

He wants that. He wants to be Dream’s so badly.

Sapnap might be trying to say something to him, but George doesn’t pay any attention. He’s hooked on Dream, high on the way he moves, the way the crowd is warming up to him—clapping and screaming. Neither he nor Dream are paying attention.

A superstar in my bed…

Oh fuck.

We close the curtains now it’s our time…

It’s not a very long song, but to George it feels like it’s going by too fast. He wants to live here. He wants this moment to last forever, where he can pretend this is his song. This is Dream’s song for him. He wants to be the celebrity in Dream’s head.

When the last notes play out, the crowd applauds enthusiastically. George’s reaction is delayed, waiting too long before he joins in. He doesn’t want to appear unsupportive.

“Wow,” Sapnap says while Dream hands the mic back and heads to the stage stairs. “That was really ballsy of him.”

“What do you mean?” George asks, though he’s barely paying attention to Sapnap.

“Singing that song,” Sapnap says. Dream’s back at the bar, getting another round it looks like. George watches him like a hawk, seeing the women in going out outfits coming up to talk to Dream. “Especially here. Why didn’t he just chose, like, an Eminem song?”

“You’re dumb,” George says. “Dream shouldn’t sing an Eminem song. He can’t rap. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying…” Sapnap says, throwing back the rest of this beer because he’s also noticed Dream’s coming back with more drinks.

“I liked his song,” George says, hoping he can pass this off as being a supportive friend and not, like, massively in love with Dream.

“Of course you did,” Sapnap says.

Dream clinks drinks onto the table. They must have had them ready for him with how quickly he was served. Not that it takes more than a second to even make a vodka cranberry.

“Hey,” Dream says. There’s some sweat in his curls at his temples.

“Hi,” George says.

“Cool song, bro,” Sapnap says. “I can’t believe you sang George’s stupid song. You should sing the one about me.”

“There is no song about you, Nick,” Dream says, amusement rife in his voice. He sits down heavily in his seat.

“Well, maybe you should fix that,” Sapnap says, but George’s lost the plot because Dream’s words are sinking in.

He hasn’t denied it. He didn’t say George doesn’t have a song either.

“He doesn’t need a song for you, when he has one about me,” George says, the vodka making him brave enough to brush his ankle against Dream’s under the table.

“And I have a song with you,” Dream says. “Our McDonald’s song. That’s epic.”

“You two are disgusting,” Sapnap declares. “I am going to sign up now, I think. I’m hoping they have a song called, like, Fuck You or something. Maybe Get a Room and Fuck Each Other Already, the remix. I don’t fucking know.” And he stalks off towards the booth to talk to the DJ.

“I guess those beers kicked in,” George says and then wants to punch himself.

“The list is already too long,” Dream says. “He’s not getting to sing tonight.”

“I hope everyone here knows how lucky they are,” George says, intending that to mean that they won’t hear Sapnap sing, but in the saying of the words, he realizes there’s another meaning. “They got to hear the original artist sing his song. That’s, like, really epic.”

“I bet literally no one here knew that except you and Sap,” Dream says. ��Kinda made it funny, to be honest.”

“It’s not really a funny song, though,” George says.

“No, not a funny song,” Dream repeats. His eyes are dark under the lights of the bar and his face drifts closer to George, ankle hooking around George’s. “Kind of a painful song for a long time”

“What?” George asks. “Why?”

Dream takes a sip of his water before he answers. “I dunno, because the subject of the song, like…”

“What?”

“The subject of the song doesn’t feel that way about me?” he says, and looks down at the table. His hands wrap around his water glass.

“The subject of the song takes offense to that,” George says. “When are the curtains closing? There’s been no discussion of curtains closing, because I would remember if there were. I have—I have things to say behind curtains, Dream.”

“Really?” he asks, looking up.’

“Yeah, idiot,” George tells him. He leans closer. Dream smells perfect—like the cologne he wears when they go out and some fruity shampoo or conditioner. It’s so Dream. He still can’t believe he didn’t know it for so long.

“What kinds of things do you want to say behind the curtains?” Dream asks, voice tight.

“Things like ‘harder’ and ‘right there’,” George says because the alcohol has made him brave.

“So you just want—you just want the bedroom part,” Dream surmises. He’s trying to hide it, but George can sense his disappointment. God, for someone so smart, he’s so dumb.

“Not just,” George says, because he can’t make himself say more, but he can get that part out.

“Really?” Dream asks, perking up.

“Ask me properly and find out,” George says.

Sapnap wanders back over to their table. “Fucking clowns signed up too many duds and now I can’t sing,” he says, throwing himself into his chair.

“Yeah, it’s their fault,” George says, shaking his head. He doesn’t look away from Dream. He can’t. He’s not imagining it.

They’re… getting somewhere.

Outside the bar, the air is chilly for Florida. Dream calls them an Uber and Sapnap yaps away about everything and nothing, and George… George lets himself lean into Dream’s strong body in the car. George watches the lights fly by while they drive home. George waits with Dream after they’ve been dropped off back home, while Sapnap beelines inside to take a slash.

And out here with the crickets chirping and the sound of the Uber driving away, George can hear his heart over all of it.

Until Dream leans over and all he can hear is the question, “George, you wanna go out with me sometime?”

#dnf fic #about karaoke #rated T #dreamnotfound

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