Arabesque

Glisser P2

A/N: quick reminder/introduction before you read!
Dream and George - modern ballet. Bad - jive dancer, music mixer. Skeppy - breakdancer. A6d- breakdancer. Sapnap - hip hop dancer.

Enjoy!

—

"Baaaad!" George called into the room. Although it was technically for dancing, Bad had converted it into a soundbooth as well. A mixer over there, some sound foam over there, some kind of other musical contraption he didn't care to name, and an open space for when the older boy was actually practicing jive.

"Who's bad?" Dream peeked in over his head. George shivered at the closeness before he entered the darkened room further.

"Not bad as in," The Brit struggled for a word before deciding it wasn't worth it. "bad, bad as in there's someone named Bad."

"Huh? Did some muffin say my name?" A mop of messy brown hair peeked up from behind the mixer, glasses askew on the bridge of the boy's nose.

"Hey," George waved an arm to catch his attention, noticing the headphones probably blaring noise into his ears. "over here, Bad!"

"George!" Bad's face lit up as he took off the headphones, clambering over the mess of wires he'd made. Bad was always tinkering with something with his sound machines; he said it helped to make his music more unique, but the Brit was fairly sure it was just so he could spend more time with Vincent, lovingly referred to as a6d, without being yelled at by the executives. Speaking of the Frenchman, a head of even darker hair popped up, peering over the top of the mixer.

One, two, so where's the other—

Dream yelped from behind him, which startled George in turn.

"Skeppy." And that makes three.

"I gotcha!" The breakdancer ran his fingers through his shock of hair proudly, hopping from foot to foot. If there was anything George admired about that particular third of the group, it was his energy. He never stopped moving. "So, who's the noob?"

The Brit pushed Skeppy away gently so he could receive a hug from Bad, as the taller ruffled his hair. Glancing back at Dream, he saw a look of absolute bemusement and decided to take pity on him.

"This is Dream, he's my partner for the new lead."

Suddenly, a veritable flood of voices began.

"Hi, I'm Dream—"

"—George, you got the lead?! I'm so happy fo—"

"—your partner or your boyfriend—"

"—bonjour, Dream—"

"Okay, okay, everybody shut up." George interrupted the cacophony of noise, pushing the approaching Skeppy back once again. "Thank you, Bad. Shut the fuck up, Skeppy, no. Yeah, hi to you too, '6d."

He heaved a sigh, fake-exasperated with the other three dancers, though the smirk playing on his lips probably discredited him a bit.

"Dream, meet the trio. This is Darryl, but nobody calls him that. It's Bad," he looked up at the man. "maybe you want to let me go now?" The taller flushed and righted his glasses, stepping back to give George his space.

"Sorry!" He squeaked. "I forgot. It's nice to meet you, Dream! Cool name!"

"Thanks." The other replied, seemingly still dazed.

"You've met the annoying one, Zak." George ignored his cry of protest, silenced by Bad. "He goes by Skeppy. Honestly, nobody but Bad calls them by their real names, and even then it's rare." George shrugged, moving on. "This is Vincent, but his nickname is 'a6d'. Might as well be his name, since he complains if anybody says his actual name right."

"Nobody ever does!" The thick accent cried out.

"What kind of dancing do you guys do?" Dream finally spoke up again, an easy grin now tugging at his mouth. He had taken to George's rather strange group of friends better than expected.

"Bad does jive, the vintage nerd, and '6d and I do breakdance." Skeppy began, leaning against one of the studio walls, propping his foot up behind him. He examined his nails in disinterest.

"Jive is not nerdy, it's fun! And you said you'd let me teach you! I also do the tracks for a lot of the dancers." Bad rolled his eyes, sending a shy smile Dream's way.

"That was a troll!" The shorter responded, red. Skeppy pulled his beanie down further. His hands dropped until they were crossed over his chest. "Why would I want you to teach me jive?"

George grinned at the casual interaction between the three, glad Dream was getting along with the trio. Or at least, two-thirds of it. The Brit furrowed his brows, looking over at the abandoned mixer. So where was— a6d popped up next to him, and George just barely managed to contain a flinch.

"All of you are getting bells."

A6d looked unimpressed.

"Sure," he drawled, deadpan. "we'll get bells as soon as you can perfect your routine."

Now that wasn't fair, but maybe a6d had the right, after having heard George complain about it so much.

"I actually got it yesterday, baguette boy. The solo part, at least."

"Sure."

"Hey, George!" Dream called his name, causing him to turn and face the three others. He looked at them quizzically. "We're going to go meet my friend, if you guys want to come!"

"I'm down. Let's rock."

"Actually, it's jive, ballet away, breakdance away, et cetera, depending on your personal preference."

"My braaaaain." Skeppy muttered, groaning at Bad's pun.

The group of five started out of the room and down the hallway. Maybe Dream was a little bit of a dick, sure, but he was alright, too. Maybe his friend would be cool, anyway.

As they approached the studio room George had been practicing in the night he and Dream had met, the Brit became steadily more uneasy.

"Are we almost there?" Skeppy whined.

"Have some patience, fatty!" Bad scolded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Actually, we are here!" Dream stopped in front of the next room over. George felt his stomach drop.

"What did you say your friend dances to, again?"

"Hip-hop. Why?" The blonde boy pushed into the room. The track spun out as George and the other locked eyes.

"You."

"You."

With equally feral sounding growls from either side, George and Sapnap both lunged forward.

—

The boys have met before! Comments and constructive criticism appreciated! <3 ;DD