[identity profile] sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] sga_flashfic
Crack!Fic: And Where are all the Gods?
Author:[livejournal.com profile] sheafrotherdon
Challenge: Secret Superpowers
Characters: McKay, Sheppard
Rating: PG
Summary: On patrol at 2am, John inadvertently discovers Rodney indulging in the exercise of his superpower.
A/N: Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] siriaeve for acting as a roving SG encyclopedia. And the song available for download right here may prove useful in fully visualizing the crack within.



Eyes narrowed, body primed and ready for trouble, John paused by the transporter, listening to the faint music drifting down the corridor toward him. He clicked his radio. "Lorne?"

"Yessir."

"You notice anything . . ." He tilted his head. He was pretty sure he could hear the faint strains of Bonnie Tyler's voice. " . . . untoward in quadrant six an hour ago?"

"No sir."

"Nothing . . . musical."

". . . Musical, sir?"

"Yeah. Singing."

"No sir. Would've remembered that."

"And no one was in the gym?" John lifted his P-90, and crept forward.

"No sir. Everything was quiet." There was a quiet mumbling. "Life-signs detector shows someone using the gym right now sir, but whomever it is, they're one of us."

"Human?"

"Yessir."

"Any irregular energy readings on this floor?"

A pause. "No sir. Everything checks out. You need backup?"

"Not yet." John chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering exactly what repressed memory from the 80s was making him this uneasy at the prospect of confronting someone who'd play Bonnie Tyler by choice. "I'll check back."

"Yessir. Lorne out."

John adjusted his grip on his gun. The music only grew louder the closer he drew to the gym, and he paused outside the closed doors, listening to the rhythmic sound of footsteps against the floor. He waved his hand over crystals and . . .

. . . found himself staring at Rodney McKay.

Flashdancing.

For a second Rodney didn't notice him – kept running on the spot before flipping back his head to clear some of the sweat from his brow. Seconds after, he launched himself into an elaborate tumble, leaping back to his feet just in time to join Bonnie Tyler's backing vocalists in a resounding chorus of "Ooo ooo ooo oooo."

After which, he saw John.

"Oh shit!" Rodney yelped, hurrying to shut off the iPod he'd rigged to makeshift speakers.

John stared.

"Yes, yes, shut up, shut up, don't say a word," Rodney snapped. The music shut off.

John wet his lips, lowered his gun, and searched for something neutral to say. "It's 2am."

"Yes, thank you, Colonel, I'm well aware." Rodney's mouth was pinched.

John pulled a face, swallowed, then jumped right in. "You were - dancing."

Rodney tilted his chin. "Yes?"

"Rodney – you were dancing."

"Yes." Rodney squared his shoulders. "I – "

John waited, expectantly.

"It's my superpower," Rodney mumbled, shamefaced.

John blinked, blinked again, and struggled to find words.

"Since I was a child. I can watch a choreographed routine once and perfectly replicate it only moments after."

John stared some more.

"I don't like working with weights, and Teyla hits me often enough without arming her with sticks, but I'd like to be in better shape, especially since we seem to spend most of our time running for our lives, especially on those occasions when you feel it's advisable to turn on your so-called 'charm' – "

John thought the air quotes were possibly a little much.

" - and so I thought I'd just brush up on old routines I knew, use my superpower for good."

"Instead of . . . evil?" John asked.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Rodney snapped, looking pained.

"No really, could we use this against the Wraith?"

"Not unless you think we can persuade them to participate in a 'to-the-death' dance-a-thon to the accompaniment of Dueling Banjos?"

"A dance-off does have some appeal – "

"Colonel!"

John swallowed and looked around the room. "Well it's – it's . . . " He thought for a moment. "Can you do the robot?"

"Not to Bonnie Tyler," Rodney said, voice dripping with disdain.

"No, no, but – maybe to a little . . . Axel F?"

Rodney hitched one shoulder reluctantly. "Maybe then."

John stepped forward, confidingly. "Can you do that move Vanilla Ice used to do?"

Rodney eyed him suspiciously. "Not if you want me to teach it to you, no."

John deflated a little.

"Although I could, maybe, perhaps, if you were nice . . . " Rodney rolled his shoulders. "Show you Kevin Bacon's moves from Footloose."

John grinned happily. "Awesome."

"Hmmm." Rodney didn't look enthused. "Have you studied any of the greats? Baryshnikov? Madonna? Justin Timberlake?"

"I always liked Lance."

Rodney sighed. "And isn't that a surprise. Well – I'll do what I can."

"And maybe when we're done I could show you a little – "

"If you so much as think 'horizontal mambo' I will kill you with my bare hands."

John quirked an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's using your superpower for evil."

"And not even the Wraith would convict me," Rodney sniffed.

John shrugged out of his tac vest and moved to the middle of the floor. "Just one question."

"Hmm?"

"Where have all the good men gone, Rodney?"

"Dance," Rodney snapped, and set the iPod to play.
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