Work Text:
Present day...
"Hey, John? Remember the time we got drunk and did karaoke?"
"No, Rodney."
"You remember! The night before we stepped through the Stargate and into Atlantis for the first time. We were all celebrating in the Mess Hall and, well, you know..."
"No. I don't know, McKay."
"Yes, you do know, Sheppard. You were there! And Zelenka, and Beckett, and--"
"Toto, too?"
"Y- no! Don't be ridiculous, thank you very much. Look, you had way too much to drink - which was your own fault, Sheppard, by the way - but you finally got up on stage to--"
"I did not get up on stage. And keep your voice down."
"Yes, you did."
"No. I. didn't."
"Yes. You. Did."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not!"
Rodney went quiet for a moment, then; "Did too, times infinity. Ha!"
Five years earlier...
No, he did not like karaoke competitions or any singing in public of any kind. No, he did not want to do a duet with Rodney McKay even though Meat Loaf was, quote, "something more John's speed". And no, he certainly did not think it was necessary to perform in costume or provide their own stage lights and pre-programmed lighting sequences.
John was beginning to think that this Dr. McKay guy wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer regardless of the number of times he'd said it. It had only been a couple of weeks since John had joined this mission and every day felt like going ten rounds with the intellectual equivalent of the Tasmanian devil.
All afternoon the physicist had been yammering on about the local bar and its legendary karaoke competition and how great it would be for them to do a "y'know, a best friend bonding thing" seen as they'd be stuck with each other in another galaxy the next morning. And all afternoon John had been refusing to participate, earning him a scathing 'Colonel Stick-in-the-mud' and a few finger prods to the chest. He's was also curious as to how he'd earned the status of 'best friend' quite so fast.
Who did this guy think he is, getting all up in John's personal space and barking relentless demands at him, in between ranting about his incompetent minions and praising the Mess Hall chef for preparing him a separate meal on Lemon Chicken Day?
John leaned against the scientist's work station. "Besides, do you really want me, a guy you hardly know, to sing with you on stage in front of people?"
"Um, yes?" Rodney kept typing, eyes glued to the screen. "I heard you crooning in the showers the other day. You're actually somewhat acceptable."
"Somewhat acceptable? Wow, high praise indeed."
A hand shot out and fingers clicked until he held out his hand to accept the latest piece of Ancient tech Rodney wanted him to activate. The physicist rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess. Would you like me to tell you you're the greatest singer to grace the men's showers at Cheyenne Mountain?"
"Well, I--."
"Or that Mariah Carey would give up on her career and Queen would beg you to lead the band if only they could hear you warble out half a chorus from 'Ring of Fire'?"
"Well, no it's--"
"Would it help if I got my minions to come along and throw things at you? Panties and the like?"
"Hey! I just--" This time he cut himself off as the scientist moved in close, blue eyes sucking the rebuttal right out of him.
"It'll be fine." Rodney leaned in even closer and lowered his voice. "Zelenka's smuggling in some of that Slavic firewater that'll getcha nice 'n' loose. You'll be good to go in no time, Liza."
"Ngh." John cleared his throat and tried again while those blue eyes just stared expectantly. "Uh, loose?"
The response he got was a smirk, an abrupt pivot, and a return to full volume. "So, it's settled then. I'll see you at the bar at eight. Make sure you practice." John watched, totally bewildered, as Rodney closed his laptop with a triumphant thwap, scooped up his empty coffee mug, and headed to the door. At the threshold he paused. "And just to be clear, I'm Meat Loaf and you're Ellen Foley. Got it? Good."
John blinked. "Wait. What just happened?"
But it seemed that all the minions were suddenly busy and that Ancient doohickey was of absolutely no help.
Approximately five years and way too many drinks earlier...
John was waiting at a table in the back, as instructed, wondering when exactly Rodney would be joining him. He had far too many shots of Zelenka's firewater sloshing in his belly which had him feeling all warm and dazed. No, loose. Yeah, definitely loose.
Despite his earlier protests, he'd arrived at the bar on time but so far the pushy physicist was yet to appear. John had managed to rustle up something adjacent to a costume. When she performed, Ellen Foley had worn tiny, tight white clothes on stage so John had on his one and only nice white shirt and some whitewashed jeans, borrowed at the last minute from a fresh-faced marine with questionable taste in clothes. It wasn't lost on him that during his own phase of questionable taste he'd worn his hair long, much like Foley herself.
But no one ever had to know about that.
It came as quite a surprise a little later when he found himself explaining it all to a bemused bartender after John had stumbled up to the bar for some water. When it came time for Rodney's turn to perform, he turned to scan the room. John was beginning to think that Rodney wasn't going to show and he felt oddly disappointed. He was about to call him from the payphone by the bar when the man in question burst in through the double doors dressed up as Meat Loaf, complete with an oversized ruffly shirt, black suspenders, and a shoulder-length brown wig. Everyone in the room watched as he strode up to the stage, tossing his long hair dismissively as he passed by a table of karaoke junkies in the front.
John sat down on a barstool. What the hell was he doing? No amount of firewater was going to make this work out well for either of them. Maybe he could slink out quietly. Yeah, that would be for the best. He'd wait for the song to start and then-- oh, McKay's actually going to play that keyboard up there? John had thought it was just a prop, a decoration for the karaoke night. John went to stand up when the lights dimmed, timed to perfection as Rodney took his seat. Okay, lights are low, time to g--
Right then, a lone spotlight fired up and Rodney started to play, a backing track providing the rest of the instruments. John stared as each stroke was delivered with panache, those large hands flying across the keys as though possessed. Rodney's eyes were closed to the crowd, his head nodding in time, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
John sat back down with a thump.
Up there, on that tiny stage, Rodney was bathed in pulsing purples and warning reds. The music swelled, fast and energetic, as the scientist slammed each chord with his left hand, his right fluttering up and down the keys at a dazzling speed. John whistled. Wow, the man could play! And, apparently, he could sing too. With perfect pitch, his voice came blaring out of the speakers, revving up the crowd who immediately began singing along as they packed themselves onto the dancefloor.
John just sat there, shaking his head in wonder and grinning at his new friend. Rodney may have been impressive in the labs but he was absolutely magic on stage. He didn't just sing, he performed with his whole being - body swaying, arms flailing, and his face contorting with the effort of executing such a demanding song. The atmosphere was electric, charged by McKay, and he lit up the room.
Before he knew it, the announcer's voice came on the backing track, narrating that old ball game in the middle of the song;
OK, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker going here...
There's the windup! As John's cue approached, he found himself moving slowly toward the stage.
And there it is, a line shot up the middle... With every beat, he took another step closer.
Look at him go! He floated around tables and stepped over outstretched legs.
He's taking a pretty big lead out there... John arrived at the edge of the dancefloor. The crowd parted for him, leaving a clear path between him and Rodney.
This boy can really fly! John was gliding across the dancefloor and swooped up onto the stage.
Here he comes... The moment John had been dreading was nearly there. His cue was only a sentence or two away.
It's gonna be close... All around him, lights flashed in a dizzying array of colours, the cheers and chanting of the crowd at war with the thumping speakers.
Holy cow, I think he's gonna make it!
John snatched the microphone from its stand and gulped. He looked to his left. Rodney was still playing while he looked over at John. His face was flushed, his smile wide and simply dazzling to behold. He hadn't seen anyone that happy in... well, shoot. Okay. John was determined to do this right. He was going to belt out those lyrics with everything he had.
For Rodney.
Beside him, Rodney's playing paused, ready for John to sing. The crowd went quiet as the backing track instrumental built into a crescendo. Rodney held his hands above the keys, the left hand splayed and ready to slam out the chords, the pointer finger of his right hovering above the relevant key. John nodded at him and stood to attention. Okay, John, he thought. You can do this. You can do this. Here we go...
Three... two... one...
John took a deep breath and opened his mouth and then he was doing it - he was singing. "Stop right there!" Clang, clang, clang! "I gotta know right now!" Da-da-da-da Da-da-da-da Da-da-da-da Da-da-da-da...
"Before we go any further - do you love me? Will you love me forever? Do you need me? Will you never leave me? Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life? Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?"
John felt himself relax as he sang the chorus through again, bolstered by the noise of the crowd as they sang along with him. With Rodney beaming his encouragement, John even managed something akin to a rocking sway, accompanied by enthusiastic nodding and a cheek-splitting grin.
John closed his eyes and completely let go. "I gotta know right now! Before we go any further - do you love me!? Will you love me forever!?"
Present day...
Once again, McKay was doing his head in. It didn't matter how many times he told him 'no', he just wouldn't take a hint and shut up about the whole karaoke thing. Even now, Rodney was still muttering under his breath and taking his frustration out on an innocent muffin.
John fiddled with the crust of his sandwich and refused to give an inch, preferring instead to sit in stubborn silence. Across the table, John could sense that Rodney's mumblings were beginning to wind their way back up into full self-righteous rant-mode. He was about to cut him off before he could get going again when a figure appeared beside their table.
"Perhaps this will settle little problem, ano?" The figure disappeared, leaving a small rectangle of cardboard on their table. John snatched it off the table as Rodney huffed and made grabby hands.
John turned away from the table and hunched over what turned out to be a photograph. What the hell? He had said no, goddammit. No to the whole ridiculous night and yet somehow, somehow, not only did he end up doing exactly what Rodney had wanted, there was now hard evidence of the night in question. He slumped in his chair, completely deflated.
A chair screeched along the floor as Rodney scooted his way around the table. A hand landed on John's shoulder as the irritated scientist leaned in from behind him. John heard a soft gasp as Rodney tried to take the photo and ended up cradling John's hand instead. Then, in a hushed reverent tone, "That wily bastard."
John turned hs head and looked at Rodney. There was that smile, all one thousand megawatts of it, beaming down at the memory of what could have been their very last night in their home galaxy. Their final night as Earthers before they became Lanteans.
Before they became... well.
John sighed and pressed his forehead to Rodney's temple. The other man made a questioning noise but John just shook his head and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Rodney. He was okay. How could he be anything else when just one look at the photo made Rodney so happy? In fact, if he was being honest, John was grateful for the photo. It commemorated the most important thing he'd learned on this journey so far, something that everyone else knew anyway.
John would do anything for McKay.
