Another Flower Blooms, Bolstered By Singing

Prompt from “pridemonthprompts” 2025 list.

These characters were previously seen here.

Ok. This hadn’t been too bad. It helped that it was only their friends here, and everybody else was a little bit drunk, and that even inebriated they all knew better than to bother handing Betsy one of the microphones.
So she clapped along, and even sang when she knew the lyrics, though only under her breath. And it was fun.
Just as she was getting worn out and feeling the urge to go home and lie down, Tilly leant close and said “For a last hurrah, do you wanna sing “Strut It” with me?”
Normally Betsy would’ve refused. Or, well, not refused, but made excuses. Said she was bursting for the loo. Or that she had a headache. Or any of a million polite, safe ‘outs’.
The habit was so ingrained that she started to say “Oh, I-” before remembering the conversation they’d had earlier. Her telling Tilly that she wanted to try getting up on the little stage and singing, maybe, so long as she was sure she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
Well… they’d be leaving soon, because she honestly needed time to wind down and recover before bed. So it was sort of ‘now or never’, right? Except totally not, because goodness knows there’d be other karaoke nights. But if she kept thinking like that, she probably wouldn’t join in on any of them.
Deep breaths. Consider it. Don’t just flinch away automatically.
First thing first… “Do they have it?”
“Yep.” Tilly pushed the song booklet over and pointed.
Presumably to where “Strut It” was listed. Betsy was too tired and anxious to squint at tiny neon print. Tilly had checked; that was good enough.
And, given how often they’d sung along to “Strut It”, she could surely manage while nervous, right? Both of them had it in their favourite playlists. Tilly had invented whole dance routines for it which incorporated vacuuming or doing the dishwasher. It was a very “them” song.
Betsy took a deep breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah! Fuck it.”
Seeing Tilly’s face light up turned some of the butterflies in Betsy’s stomach warm and quiet. She tried to hold onto that blithe happiness, share in it, as they stood up and took the mics from Sarah and George as the couple skipped off stage.
Oh god oh god would everyone make a big deal about her joining in??
Betsy clutched the mic and fixed her gaze on the lyrics screen. Forcing herself to breathe deep. Going to need air, after all.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it was just her friends here…
Tilly finished fiddling with the console. That familiar beat boomed out. And their friends immediately whooped approvingly and started clapping.
That… sounded exactly like all the other times someone got up to sing. A little more tension eased - though her bpm was still almost as fast as the song's.
Just focus. On the music, and the lyrics in front of her, and Tilly bouncing excitedly by her side. Don’t worry about anything else.
There! The little ball started bouncing, and Tilly belted out the first line with all the ease and confidence she showed in their kitchen. Betsy tried to emulate her, though she felt sure her nerves were obvious to everyone. At least she got the second line - her first line - out without stammering.
And then her second line, and then her fourth, and then it was the chorus and everyone was stomping and singing along, and Betsy realised she was kinda enjoying this??
It helped that Tilly was acting so normal. Well. Normal for her, during this song.
The singers had gone on record saying the tune was meant to be a perfectly chaste encouragement between perfectly platonic friends. But if you were gonna queerbait by calling each other “girlfriend” in the lyrics, you didn’t get to complain when lesbian couples sexed your work right up! It was part of what made the song so fun.
Last verse. Betsy almost didn’t want it to end, but realistically she was getting breathless and now really needed to curl up someplace quiet.
Maybe if she’d joined in earlier…
Maybe next time. There’d be plenty more karaoke nights.
For now, she’d noticed Tilly having trouble not dancing along. Well, they always did. Normally. But of course if she started dancing she’d make Betsy look weird for just standing.
Seized by adrenaline, Betsy caught Tilly’s free hand and squeezed it. Tilly looked at her, startled, then grinned madly as Betsy, on the close of her final line, pulled her girlfriend into their dance.
After all, it was the last chorus, and the whole group was singing along. Nobody would notice if they missed a note - or even a whole word! And naturally what they danced during the chorus was the most practised part.
It only lasted thirty-three seconds. But they were glorious, fluid, fun seconds. It was like the butterflies had flown off, leaving her lighter. Jitters burnt away by the enthusiastic motions of the dance and the song she was still belting.
Not quite as good as in their own kitchen, she felt. But she was so glad she’d done it.
The applause when they finished seemed genuine, as well. Not only intended to encourage her. Betsy managed to make out a few shouted compliments about the dancing.
Oh. Heh. It probably looked impressive if you had no idea how much they’d practised it. Or rather, if you didn’t know that usually they practised it while cleaning up after dinner.
She definitely needed a lie-down. But first she needed a sit-down. Handing the mic to… whoever was waiting, she fell back into her seat and downed the rest of her drink. Pulse still hammering wildly. Grinning hugely at the way Tilly beamed at her.
Betsy leant close, partly to be heard and partly because she needed support (in a more literal, physical sense than emotional, though that too), and said “Next time, we should dance for the whole thing.”
“Fuck yeah!!”

Prompt was “Karaoke”.