Hello!!!
Can I request karaoke with Kurt wagner?🙏🏼
I feel like it'd be so much fun going to a karaoke place and just having a blast, and what songs do you think he would sing?🤔
— Karaoke Bar - Kurt Wagner
Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn! reader
Genre: fluff, slice of life
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: you're wondering why Kurt dragged you out to the bar, and then the karaoke starts
CW: alcohol, drinking, they go to a bar, mild public embarrassment, kurt may be a little ooc, mild PDA, kinda corny ending
tbh i struggled very hard to come up with what songs he would sing </3 but i think in modern day he would sing fun, upbeat oldies
day 2 of me trying to write slice of life...this turned out much much much longer than i expected, was just gonna do hcs but this idea was too fun to waste!! i think our boy would be the most fun ever to hang out and drink with and now i totally wanna write the xmen having a karaoke night <3 have a fantastic day!
It’s a rainy Friday night and the local bar Kurt insisted on taking you to is packed. A crowd of people bustles around the room, carrying glasses of liquor and chatting to their neighbours. Despite the cold, dreary weather outside, the bar is warm from the throng of bodies and lively with music.
You squint into the amber light of the bar, watching as Kurt shimmies his way through a group of people about to do a round of shots. He has glasses in both hands and his face lights up the minute he catches sight of you.
He sets down his frothy mug of beer, a bit of the foam spilling over the side, before delicately handing you your glass. “It’s like a zoo in here.”
You nod in agreement, though the crowd doesn’t bother you too much. Better yet, the crowd isn’t even bothered by Kurt or his azure complexion—possibly because they’re too drunk to care, or because they’re used to Kurt frequenting it.
Suddenly, the noise of the crowd dies down, replaced with the thunderous sound of applause. You raise an eyebrow at Kurt in confusion, who smiles bashfully and shrugs his shoulders.
You were curious when he’d asked you to come to the bar with him—this was usually an outing he preferred to do alone. More than that, you’ve never been much of a drinker and Kurt knows that very well.
It’s only when you see the group of drunk girls stumble onto a stage you originally assumed was for live music that you realized why he dragged you here. Karaoke.
One of the girls smiles and sheepishly waves to the crowd as ‘Dancing Queen’ starts to play. You turn to Kurt with a mock scowl.
“What?” He feigns innocence, hiding his guilty smile behind a gulp of beer. “I like the atmosphere.”
You lean back in your chair and take a long sip of your drink. The girls aren’t bad singers, and with the crowd clapping along to the ABBA song, it’s easy to fall into the lively rhythm.
A few more people go up after that, singing a melange of rock and Disney songs. Kurt looks at the stage wistfully, bobbing his head to the songs, occasionally tapping the beat onto the chipped wood of the bar table.
Kurt turns to grin at you. “So, when are you going up?”
“When am I going up?” You scoff, “only if you go up first.”
You say it in the same way you would say other adynatons; like when pigs fly or when hell freezes over. However, Kurt doesn’t quite see it like that—instead, his eyes sparkle with mischief, leaving you wondering just what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.
Your heart pounds as you watch him approach the sign up sheet at the bar, scribbling something you couldn’t possibly read from here. The man on the stage finishes the last few bars of Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ before saluting to the crowd and shuffling off stage.
And then Kurt is going up, the microphone clenched so tightly in his hand you’re worried he’ll break up. He’s not usually this bold, especially not in front of such a huge crowd, but the mix of beers and your presence has him feeling brave tonight.
You’re not sure what to expect from him—something from an old movie, a rock song Logan showed him? You wait anxiously, your hands tapping at the sides of your glass until the music begins to play and you break out into a grin.
Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ blares through the speakers and Kurt’s amber eyes meet yours. He only knows about half the words, humming his way through the rest, but the crowd doesn’t seem to care. They cheer and sing along, covering up the small mistakes he makes.
It’s enjoyable for the first two minutes and then you remember that you told Kurt you’d go up after him, and the dread sets in. Every word of the song has your heart pounding in your chest, your blood pressure rising by the second.
The song finishes, Kurt bows, and suddenly he’s making his way back to you. He flashes you a grin, “how’d you like that?”
“It’s like Billy Joel was in the room with us.”
He laughs, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “So, what are you going to sing?”
You swallow. You haven’t drank nearly enough for this, nor do you have half of the unabashed courage of the people who’ve performed tonight.
You’re about to shake your head, to open your mouth and say no, when Kurt tilts his head at you. “I’ll go up with you,” he offers. “But I get to choose the song.”
You gladly take the out, furiously nodding your head. Kurt downs the rest of his beer, going back to the sign up sheet and scribbling something down with a shit-eating grin.
The sweet, older couple on stage finishes their duet. The drunken crowd roars in approval and you clap along despite missing most of the performance. Kurt finds his way back to you, offering you a hand to follow him to the stage.
Every step you take to the back of the bar has butterflies jumping in your stomach and you force yourself to swallow back bile. Oh god, oh god, oh god. You can only hope he picked a song you know, something you can fall into the rhythm of and let drown you.
The step onto the stage feels like climbing a mountain and then Kurt is passing you a microphone and you’re left waiting anxiously on the stage. The lights above feel too bright, the air of the bar suddenly too warm. You clench the mic like a lifeboat, and then the music is playing and you’re turning to look at him with a smile.
The familiar beat of ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ fills the bar and settles your nerves. Kurt reaches for your free hand, taking a step forward while he sings the first few words of Marvin Gaye’s part.
You’re shaky when you start singing the other half of the duet, every word feeling heavy and foreign in your mouth. Then Kurt is squeezing your hand in reassurance, turning to look at you as the chorus hits.
His enthusiasm is contagious and you find yourself falling into the song with him, meeting his eyes and singing like he’s the only person in the room. He gives you a little twirl, beaming in encouragement.
The song goes by much quicker than you expect and you’re left breathless and giggling, Kurt only a few inches from your face. He slips his hand off of yours, pressing it into the small of your back and dipping you down to kiss you.
The sudden weightlessness sends a rush of butterflies to your stomach, the taste of his lips on yours leaving you speechless. He pulls you back to your feet, grabbing your hand, raising it high in the air and giving the bar a theatre bow.
They clap and cheer, the rush of noise drowned out by the rush of blood to your ears. Then he’s pulling you off to the side of the stage, the two of you giggling as you make your way out of the bar.
It’s still pouring rain but your sweaty, heat-stricken skin is filled with relief at the cold air and lack of bodies.
You tilt your head up to the sky and let the rain run down your face. “God, what a rush.”
masterlist | marvel masterlist
thanks for reading & have a lovely day ♡
