@kingdonmicrofic day 7: karaoke ✴︎ 420/420 words ✴︎ warning: mentions of alcohol
First Saturday of the month is karaoke day. After You Oughta Know on the Fourth, the girls settled on a schedule.
Since then, Mel got a taste for vodka cranberries and dancing her heart out on stage. With enough encouragement, she even went up by herself.
When Trinity posts a clip of Mel singing Starships, word gets around.
Colorful lights dance across the sticky floor. It's happy hour, and Mel twists the straw of her Pink Martini. They've got company tonight: McKay is giving her best Shania Twain performance; Victoria watches, mouth hanging open.
Trinity returns from the bathroom. "You're up in five."
To spice things up, they've been choosing songs for each other. Mel hopes Trin will go easy on her since the house is full and their coworkers are here. Trin checks her phone for the dozenth time.
"She's not coming?" Mel asks carefully.
"Nah. Whatever…" Trin nods at the door; Al-Hashimi and Samira step in through the purple beaded curtain.
Mel hopes for no other familiar faces. It's one thing to let loose with just Trin watching, but entirely different with her superiors around. She takes a big sip of her cocktail as McKay finishes.
The stage is right up at the round tables, but the lights are so blinding, the faces are just blurry bits. Mel recognizes the song from the first beat.
"I feel like fallin' in love, I'm in the mood to fuck somethin' up." CUFF IT. Beyoncé.
Mel nods to Trin, takes the mic and finds her rhythm. The song's on her shower playlist, she knows it inside out. Her braid sways, her shirt rides up her stomach a little when she moves her hips. Whenever she's up, she feels cool. Sexy.
"Hypersonic, sex erotic, on my body, boy, you got it."
Emersed in her dance routine, Mel throws a glance at the bar, and is met by piercing blue eyes. She looks away, turns, keeps going — too far gone to stop now. Plus, they're not a work. She can be whatever.
"Hit them 'draulics while I ride it, got me actin' hella thotty."
Another look. Langdon, clutching a beer, mouth half open. Why are his arms this sexy? The vodka starts hitting.
She stares back, dance moves bordering on inappropriate. "Oh, baby, anywhere, anytime, I don't mind."
In one minute, the song'll end.
In five, she'll excuse herself to go outside.
In ten, he'll kiss her up against the wall in the side street.
