This fic just kind of came to me as I was thinking "Why don't they let Greg sing?" Also the song is "I won't dance" by Frank Sinatra. If anyone has ever seen the movie "What Women Want" it's the song that Mel Gibson dances around to. That's what I picture Greg doing. :)

Note: Shameful excuse for Greg to have a dance number.
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It wasn't like he had the greatest voice of all time. He knew that. He wasn't better than Wayne. Hell, no one was better than Wayne. Greg Proops watched as the young man danced around singing about a toaster. He ran his hands through his hair. "They used to let me sing...in England." he mused "Jesus, they used to let me do a lot of stuff in England." At least then he could sing and get it out of his system. Now he had to sit here, week after week and marvel at Wayne's incredible talent and skill. Two weeks ago had brought some hope to the musical dilemma. Dan said they were going to try a new game called "Motown Group." Two guys and Wayne got to make up a song about something the audience suggests. Oh sure during rehearsal he sang his heart out, but when it came time for tapings who was up there belting out the tunes? Colin and Ryan. "I'm not bitter." he thought "Well, maybe just a little."

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Greg threw his keys on the counter. He walked toward his bedroom shrugging his coat off of his shoulders. Scanning the living room he sighed. As he dropped to the couch he reached for the remote but froze as he saw the one for the CD player. He picked it up slowly and fumbled with the buttons. As the music began to fill the room, he recognized his wife's favorite CD. Frank Sinatra. He smiled to himself as he tugged at his neck tie. He began to hum as Mr. Sinatra began to sing.

"I won't dance,
why should I?
I won't dance,
how could I?"

He didn't question how he knew the lyrics, he just sang along.
"My heart won't let
my feet do things
they should do."

Greg rubbed his palms over his face and stood up. He walked into the kitchen to get a cigarette. "You, my friend, are sad." he said to himself as he put a cigarette between his lips. He couldn't get his lighter to work so he threw it on the counter and watched it slide to the end.
"When you dance
you're charming
and you're gentle."

He walked out of the room. No, now it was definitely a stroll.

"I won't dance,
why should I?
I won't dance
how could I?"

It was over now. He opened his arms wide and belted out the song at the top of his lungs. Who said Greg Proops couldn't sing?

It's Only Acting -Stephanie
He looked over at her. She seemed to take no notice of him at all. These damned girls, they didn't talk to him. It was always those big jock guys. No one went for him. Wait...did she just look at me? he thought. He stood up and moved to the isle. She seemed to fidget with her script. She had been looking at him. He could tell by the way her eyes drifted to everyone, everyone except him.
"Mr. Proops and Ms. Jones. You're reading next!"
Greg Proops ran his hand through his hair and made his way to the stage. 
"Read scene 3 Act 1!" that voice boomed out from the abyss. 
The lights on stage prevented him from seeing anything and caused his forehead to break out in a sweat. 
"Ms. Jones, while we're young!" shouted the voice.
It was her. He was reading with...her.
He ran his hand over his hair again, something he did when he was nervous. He smiled at her but she only looked terrified. He nodded at her, she had the first line.
She looked to damned nervous. He'd really wanted to do good on this audition. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She spoke, no she launched out into her monologue. Her voice was beautiful. Her eyes...he could drown in. They locked with his and practically dared him to look away. He didn't need his script. He knew his lines by heart and with her, he didn't even need to think about it. Her voice wavered. She was coming to the end. The end where she had to cry.
"That's why I left. Because I knew you didn't...well..." When had she gotten so close to him? "I knew. I had to leave."
That was his cue. "You're back now. I didn't want you to go." He grabbed her hand just like the script said. "Never again. Not if I can help it."
Her hand came up to trace his jaw, something that was not in the script. "You can't help it. Unless you-"
He cut her off "I love you."
That was definitely not in the script either. He was supposed to let her say a few more words. It felt right. He had to go with it. She smiled as if she'd always known that. He kissed her. Thank God that was in the script, because he would have done it anyway. " Thank you that will be quite enough!" He pulled back savoring the feel of her lips on his, the way her hand lingered on his neck. He looked back into her eyes. She was that same scared girl again. Not the bold and commanding like the woman she had been in the scene. She moved away and ran backstage.

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  He had to find her. No one had ever kissed him like that. She was just acting. Maybe, maybe not. He'd seen the look in her eyes once, and he needed to see it again. He didn't even know her name.
He finally found her, in the stairwell backstage. Her head shot up when she heard him. "Hi." he smiled. "I'm Greg."
She didn't say anything so he continued. "I'm glad I found you. Mr. Michaels wants you for the part. Me too, well both of us."
She looked confused.
"You got it. You're in." he smiled.
She seemed more at ease and smiled too. It was beautiful.
"Thank you. You're wonderful." her voice was so soft it almost seemed as if she was whispering. She stood up. "I have to go."
"No wait...um...just wait." He fidgeted with his hands. "I don't know your name."  "Grace."
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Will you come to dinner with me?"
"I can't. I've got to get back to..."
"Then let me walk you home."
She glanced away from him. "Okay." She smiled and Greg knew all he wanted to do was make her smile again.
"That was amazing. What you did back there, I mean."
She looked in his eyes. "Thanks."
"It was just so...I mean your eyes were...so intense. Like you really felt it. Like you weren't even acting."
Her eyes glanced down at the floor then back up at him and he held his breath. "Maybe I wasn't."
"Grace?"
"What?"
"Make me believe you weren't." She traced his lips with her finger and then pressed her lips against his. He believed her.