SGA!crack: Play the Music, Light the Lights

[unadrift]

Oookay. Crackfic, anyone? This is my first response to the story_lottery Round 2, for the prompt "a soap bubble".

McKay/Sheppard(-ish) with a bit of Lorne/Parrish, crack, PG, 4200 words, and did I mention crack? Seriously, complete with singing and dancing. Thank you to trystings for tackling this beta read!

I'll just go and look for my mind now. I seem to have lost it somewhere.

Well then, Play the Music, Light the Lights

ETA:
Now there's a podfic version of this fic! reena_jenkins recorded it, and it's fabulous! What would Kermit the Frog say? "Applause!"

---

One of these days John would just tell Rodney to go find someone else to light stuff up. As much fun as these occasions could be sometimes, trying to turn on ten thousand year old technology that was handed to him, piece by piece, was a drag, not to mention exhausting. It only worked maybe in one out of twenty cases, anyhow, and if it did, the Ancient device usually turned out to be something completely boring, like a stapler, or a highly advanced salt and pepper grinder.

What John really didn't appreciate was the fact that Rodney always managed to pull him away from important things, like he had some built-in detector that notified him whenever John was kicking back and indulging himself.

This time, John put the golf club away with a regretful sigh and said, "Alright, McKay. This better be good." The answer he got was only an unintelligible mumble, and then Rodney signed off.

So when John reached the lab he wasn't in a very forgiving mood. "What the hell is it now, McKay?" he said.

Or, that was what he had intended to say. What came out sounded more like, "What the he--eeeyy!" followed by a squeaky sound that, if asked, John would deny ever having made.

Rodney turned around. "What? What are you staring at? Get over there and switch that on." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his desk. "I can't figure out what it does."

John stared. "You-" he said, and he was pretty sure his voice was usually deeper than that. He pointed a finger at Rodney. "You!"

Rodney tilted his head to the side. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Perplexed, John stared some more. "Am I okay?" he said. "Am I okay?" He inched a little closer to get a full view of Rodney, hoping that maybe-- But no. This wasn't a prank. A laugh escaped him, and John suspected that it sounded slightly crazy. "You-- You're small. And fuzzy!"

"I'm-- what?"

John's first manic laugh had only been the tip of the iceberg. When Rodney looked down at himself and his mouth fell open, that was what set John off for good.

"You--" he finally managed to gasp, holding onto his knees (and his sanity) for dear life. "You're a Muppet! A Muppet! Jesus, McKay, what did you do now?"

Rodney – fuzzy and cuddly and cute blue little Rodney with his orange hair – looked down at his blue little hands and snapped defensively, "Nothing! I didn't do anything! Oh my god, oh my god, how could this happen? How is this even possible?" Rodney would probably have started hyperventilating, if he were actually breathing. "This is not happening," he said, and then, "Sheppard! I've had allergic reactions to felt! Am I lethal to myself now? God, I have to reverse this!"

Rodney hurried over to his desk, his body doing the snappy up-and-down thing that matched the Muppet walk down to a T.

It was too much. John laughed and snickered and gasped until his sides hurt, aware that Rodney was glaring at him. Or trying to, with his big button eyes. John was also dimly aware that this should be worrying him. A lot. It wasn't every day that people got turned into inanimate objects, not even in the Pegasus galaxy.

"This is not funny!" Rodney yelled. He started to jump up and down in front of his desk to reach the cubic-shaped device that was lying on top of it.

"How did you not notice this before?" John asked, barely able to get the sentence out. "You're small!"

"Excuse-- me-- for-- being-- extremely-- busy," Rodney answered, accentuating each word with a jump. He gave up and finished, "--with that naquahadah generator on the floor over there. Now will you get here and-- Never mind." He grabbed a chair, wheeled it in position and started to climb onto it.

But John was faster, even though he was still laughing – on the inside, because he was hurting in places he never knew could hurt, much less just from laughing. He grabbed the cubic Ancient device a millisecond before the thought struck that, maybe, that hadn't been such a hot idea.


* * *


John woke up to-- someone singing.

There was singing going on in the infirmary. And-- was that Rodney? It was! Oh, right. Rodney was a Muppet. And wasn't that what Muppets did? Frequently and enthusiastically bursting into song and dance?

John lifted his head, and yes, there was Rodney, pacing with rhythmically perfectly timed steps in front of Zelenka and Simpson, dressing them down in rhyme and tune.

"I know that your powers of retention are as wet as a warthog's backside,
But thick as you are, pay attention, my words are a matter of pride,
It's clear from your vacant expressions, the lights are not all on upstairs--"

Rodney twirled once, waving his arm with a flourish. Then he froze, falling silent. He looked from Zelenka to Simpson and back. "Tell me I did not just do what I think I remember doing."

Zelenka pushed his glasses up with his forefinger. "It is hard to take you seriously when you are tiny and cute," he said. "Even harder with the singing. Please refrain from singing in the future."

Simpson had such a big smile on her face, John thought it had to cause her pain in the facial muscles. "Can you do Hakuna Matata?" she asked. "I always loved--"

"We will get to work now," Zelenka cut in hastily and tugged her away by the arm.

"And you better be bringing me results soon! I need to fix this!" Rodney shouted after them, fuming. "Carson!" he yelled. "What am I still doing here? Let me get out of here and figure this out!"

Carson poked his head through the door to his office. "Get back under the scanner, Rodney. There is a lot we have yet to learn about your condition. As long as we're not sure there aren't any ill effects--"

"Ill effects?" Rodney repeated incredulously. "What, pray tell, could be the ill effects of being turned into a PUPPET?"

"Er," Carson began, then noticed John looking at him and jumped at the diversion. "Colonel!" he said, relieved, and closed in on John, closely followed by Rodney. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," John said, frowning suspiciously. "Why do you ask? Why am I here?" He lifted his hand to run it through his hair and froze in mid-move, because said hand had never been brightly yellow before. Or fuzzy like that. Or this small. "Oh," he said.

"Yes, oh," Rodney said mockingly. John had to lean over the edge of the bed to look down at him.

"I'm, er, just going to--" Carson said vaguely. He picked Rodney up, very carefully, holding him and his undignified rage at an arm's length, and set him down next to John on the infirmary bed.

"Don't do that again!" Rodney said menacingly, but shifted to get himself comfortable. He looked John up and down and said, "You've got ears."

That fact wouldn't have been memorable under normal circumstances, but now that John was paying attention he noticed that Rodney was distinctly lacking ears. John raised an eyebrow. "And you've got eyebrows, too! That is just not fair," Rodney complained.

"Your nose is green," John pointed out weakly.

"And that is an upside-- How exactly?"

John was a little distracted by the strange feeling his hands created when he rubbed them together. "This is completely weird," he said.

"Weird of astronomic proportions," Rodney agreed. "And that doesn't even begin to cover it."

John reached out and ruffled Rodney's orange hair, and that felt weird, too.

"Stop that," Rodney said, but there was no vehemence in it. He looked at John with an air of thoughtfulness, like John was an experiment that was about to do something interesting. "I wonder if we could--" Rodney reached out a hand, aiming for John's nose. John jerked back.

"Oh no! We are not switching body parts! We're not actually Muppets!"

"For all intents and purposes, right at the moment, we are," Rodney pointed out. "I wonder if I'd still receive sensory data from my nose if it was in your face--"

"No way," John said, shifting away from Rodney. "Try smelling with your eye or something, if you're so keen on experimenting."

Rodney did a funny thing with his face that made it look all scrunched up. "Not that keen, no," he said. "Let's get out of here before Elizabeth comes back. I could tell she barely managed to suppress the urge to hug me to her chest last time. There's no telling what'll happen when she lays eyes on you."


* * *


Stealth and speed were the key to getting to a work station undetected. Unfortunately, Rodney was bad at both.

"But I need a computer with access to the science division database," Rodney said, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"Quiet," John hissed and cautiously peeked around a corner. The coast was clear. "Okay," he whispered. "On three."

"On three-- what?" Rodney asked.

"Just follow me," John ordered. It was really a shame that he couldn't accentuate this with the eye roll it deserved. He sped off around the corner, only to be whisked off his feet.

He tilted his head up. Ronon looked huge like this. He was holding John up by the back of the neck with one hand and Rodney with the other. Ronon's eyes went back and forth between them, taking in their new appearance. He looked mildly interested, with no sign of confusion or incredulity. This was what growing up in the Pegasus galaxy did to a person, John guessed.

Rodney was kicking out at Ronon but not achieved anything. "Let me down! I swear, Ronon, if you don't let me down right now, I-- I'm going to--"

"What?" Ronon asked, amused. "Cuddle me to death?"

"Ronon," John said, making it sound like an order.

"Beckett wants you back in the infirmary," Ronon said.

If John hadn't been trapped in the same position, the sight of Rodney hitting Ronon's arm repeatedly with his tiny fists would have been hilarious. "Yes," Rodney snapped. "By all means, turn us in, and let Zelenka mess with the device that's our only chance of fixing this, while Carson is wielding his needles and bombarding us with all kinds of radiation only to come to the conclusion that we have, in fact, been turned into puppets!"

"I can't even carry a beretta like this," John pointed out reasonably, and that, of all things, tipped the scales in their favor.

"Okay," Ronon said slowly. But before he could actually set them down, Teyla turned the corner.

She froze in mid-step. "Oh," she said, eyes widening. "I did not believe it. You really have been turned into Muppets."

Rodney sighed.

"Hey," John said. "How do you even know what a Muppet is?"

Teyla stared at them, a smile starting to spread on her face. "Rodney showed them to me on--"

"There isn't much point in discussing this right now, is there," Rodney interrupted hastily. "I for one, would prefer to get back to--"

"You brought The Muppet Show to Atlantis?" John asked. "And you didn't tell me?"

"What, you would have been interested?"

"Seriously?" John asked, affronted. "Three words: Pigs in Space. It's hilarious. 'The last time we left the space ship Swine Trek--'"

"'--we hoped it would be the last time," Teyla chimed in, grinning. "The show is very amusing."

"Not so much when you're turned into one of the main characters," Rodney said. "Can we get back to fixing this now?"

"We will accompany you back to the infirmary. You should not have snuck out of there in the first place." Teyla regarded them both with a look that was probably supposed to be reprimanding, but it never really managed to wipe out the wide grin that was still on her face.

"Do we need to have this discussion again?" Rodney asked, exasperated, hitting Ronon's arm with his fist once, for emphasis.

"You're sure you can turn yourselves back?" Ronon asked.

"Who else, if not us?" Rodney snapped, irritated.

Then, seamlessly, he switched to singing. Loud and surprisingly in-tune singing.

"And we can solve this thing together,
Standing strong forever,
Nothing's gonna stop us now!"

Ronon was so perplexed that he set them both down, pulling his hands away quickly, like the music might bite. Rodney stepped out of his grasp and danced gracefully around Ronon in a circle, continuing,

"Let 'em say were crazy, what do they know,
Put your arms around me baby,
Don't ever let go."

"Um," John said at Ronon's bewildered face and Teyla's shit-eating grin. "He does that. No reason to worry." Then he pulled free from Ronon's grip and joined in,

"Let the world around us just fall apart,
Baby we can make it if were heart to heart!"

He caught Rodney's hand and twirled him around, both of them coming to a stop with clasped hands and one arm raised theatrically.

"Er," John said after an awkward pause. "It's-- er."

"An ill effect," Rodney cut in, voice sounding a little strangled. "We'll be going now." He dragged John away by their still clasped hands.

"That was very--" John heard Teyla say.

"Yeah," Ronon agreed vaguely.

"They are even cuter like this," Teyla observed, and John thought, What the hell?

"Women are weird," Ronon answered. "Is that a hormone thing?"

He couldn't see or hear any more, but John was pretty sure that comment earned Ronon a kick to some sensitive part of his anatomy.


* * *


"So, what's the verdict?"

"I've been working for all of 30 seconds. Please shut up for at least another 270." Rodney slammed his fist down on the enter key. "This stupid keyboard isn't designed for-- Goddamnit. Help me out here."

But John stayed where he was and kept an eye out for possible visitors. There was only enough room for one Muppet to stand on the chair in front of the computer, anyway. The lab was deserted, presumably because everyone was working on their current biggest problem in Rodney's lab – but it wasn't necessarily going to stay that way. "You're asking for my help, Dr. Honeydew?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Hm. Point taken," Rodney said absently. "Who in their right mind would ask Beaker for assistance?"

"Hey, I'm not the Beaker to your Honeydew!"

"Yeah, whatever," Rodney said, and continued muttering and reading and abusing the keyboard some more. John decided he would let it slide, as long as Rodney managed to turn them back into their old selves any time soon.

"Huh," Rodney finally said, and it was the good kind of 'huh'. "I think I found the information I--"

There was a noise that sounded like a tiny 'plop', and all of a sudden John was looking up at Rodney from the floor.

"Well, that's appropriate," Rodney said and poked him in the cheek with his fuzzy blue finger.

"What?" John asked and struggled to sit up. Suddenly he was a lot taller than Rodney again.

Rodney climbed back onto the chair and studied the computer screen. "The Ancients called it a Surreality Soap Bubble. Probably. Ancient is hard to translate sometimes. But when your bubble burst, the sound fit remarkably well, don't you think? And of course there's the--"

"Rodney," John interrupted, looking down at his familiar tanned hands with relief. "Run that by me again. What did this thing do?"

"I think it's supposed to be an elaborate practical joke," Rodney explained, with a surprising lack of disgust and annoyance. He was distracted by the shiny science. "It seems to draw the image of something that is considered funny from a person's mind. Then it creates a bubble of-- of--" He turned around and gestured at John, searching for words. Rodney at a loss for words was a sight to behold, all the more so because it didn't happen very often, let alone with Rodney as a little blue Muppet.

"Surreality?" John finally supplied.

"No," Rodney said, vehemently. "No. That's not even a-- Hm. Well, yes. In the broadest possible sense. But actually, no."

John sighed. "So this thing turns you into that funny something you were thinking about? So everyone else can laugh their ass off?"

"Something like that, yes, apparently."

And then another tiny piece of the universe turned inside out and made a plop. Rodney tipped sideways off the chair he'd been standing on.

"Ow. I think I'm pissed that my Soap Bubble lasted longer than yours," Rodney said, blinking up at John with his very blue eyes.

John grinned. "That is just your luck."

And then a larger piece of the universe did something unspeakable that made John feel like he was turned inside out for a moment, and the next thing he knew he found himself lying on the floor. Again. He had to break this habit soon. It was starting to look pathetic.

John reached out his small yellow hand to fuzzy blue Rodney who was lying next to him.

"If you ever hear me considering Zelenka for a task more delicate than clearing out the trash, just shoot me, okay?" Rodney said. He turned his head to John. "See, this is just my luck."


* * *


"Radek was supposed to fix this! And he turned everyone on Atlantis into Muppets!"

"We haven't met everyone yet, Rodney," John pointed out, even though he was thinking the exact same thing.

"Well, we've met enough people to support the theory-- Huh." He paused. "We are all turned into Muppets. Interesting. What are the odds of everyone on the expedition finding Muppets hilariously funny? Slim, at best," he answered his own question. "Although I don't get how anyone could think that they're anything other than absolutely--"

"Maybe the device still draws from the image it got from you?" John cut in, because as much as he would be able enjoy discussing this at some point in the future, now was really not the time.

Rodney considered this. "Possible. Likely, even. Still. Zelenka! I'm going to kill him! And by the way, has the city always been this big? I know I don't actually have any muscles at the moment but they're aching anyway," he complained.

"Just be glad that you haven't burst into song again." Because John sure as hell was.

Right on cue, Muppet-Parrish turned round a corner, with Muppet-Lorne hot on his heels, and there was some serious bursting-into-song going on with Lorne.

"Baby can I hold you tonight,
Baby if I told you the right words, at the right time,
Then you'd be mine!"

Parrish swiveled around, pointing a finger at Lorne who almost ran into him.

"Don't call me baby,
You got some nerve, and baby that'll never do,
You know I don't belong to you,
It's time you knew I'm not your baby,
I belong to me, so don't call me baby!"

Having made his point with the help of a few decisive dance steps, he stormed off. But it seemed that Lorne wasn't discouraged easily. He followed, pleading,

"But it's sad, so sad,
It's a sad, sad situation,
And it's getting more and more absurd,
It's sad, so sad,
Why can't we talk it over,
Oh, it seems to me,
That sorry seems to be the hardest word."

His voice faded as they turned the corner at the far end of the corridor.

John stared after them.

"Ha," Rodney said smugly. "I knew we weren't the only ones. I told you."

"Yeah," John said, weakly. "I don't think I want to hear anyone sing ever again. Especially not about their personal business."

"I think it's kind of amusing," Rodney said cheerfully.

John made a face. "Just-- Let's get to the control room."

They opted for the stairs, because there was no telling what a transporter would do to their already messed-up molecular makeup. They still had three flights of stairs to go when the city-wide communications system crackled to life.

"This is an Atlantis News Flash," a voice said, blaring loudly from all speakers. John recognized it immediately as Chuck's. "All inhabitants of Atlantis have unexpectedly been turned into fuzzy felt creatures that strongly resemble the characters of 'The Muppet Show', a TV series from the late 1970's. Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition, has suspended all gate travel until further notice, primarily due to the fact that the gate technician cannot reach the DHD controls without assistance. With Atlantis' final dial-out for the time being, Weir sent out a request for help to Earth. General Jack O'Neill expressed his sympathy with the people of Atlantis. The promised support arrived fifteen minutes ago through the stargate in the form of three thousand liters of spring-breeze fabric softener."

There was a series of clicks that suggested the communications system had been switched off again.

"What was that?" John said, with feeling.

"An Atlantis News Flash, obviously," Rodney said and tackled the next flight of stairs. He reached the top, but didn't stop there to wait for John. The wide panorama windows that stretched right in front of him had apparently drawn his attention. He was almost pressing his nose into the glass while staring out at the calm sea surrounding Atlantis. John caught up with him.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Rodney asked. His voice had a dreamy, faraway quality.

"Oh no," John said. "Don't. Don't do it." But there was no stopping it, John knew.

"I'm thinking that--" Rodney said and turned to John, opening his arms,

"Our love is like a ship on the ocean,
We've been sailing with a cargo full of love and devotion,
So I'd like to know where, you got the notion,
Said I'd like to know where, you got the notion
To rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby,
Rock the boat, don't tip the boat over,
Rock the boo-o-o-oat!"

The grin on Rodney's face faded quickly once the attack had passed. "Eurgh," he said. "That song? Really?"

"You're wrong. It's the opposite, actually," John heard himself say. He knew what was coming, or he at least had a vague idea, but he just couldn't help it.

"Love is a burning thing,
And it makes a fiery ring,
Bound by wild desire,
I fell into a ring of fire,
I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down,
And the flames went higher,
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire!"

He was dimly aware that his feet were moving in a way that could possibly considered dancing. He stopped them as soon as he could.

"Please kill me now," he muttered and banged his head against the glass window.

"No need for that," Rodney said, patting his arm awkwardly. "Mutual, embarrassingly cheesy declarations of love, check. Emphasis on mutual. So why don't we just stick to our original plan: finding Elizabeth and telling her that this is going to pass all on its own."

"Okay, fine. I like that plan," John said.

Five minutes later, standing at the railing of the gate room balcony, any embarrassment John might still have felt dissipated quickly. His own musical attacks had been nothing compared to this.

"Oh wow," Rodney said. "This is taking the whole thing to a new and disturbing level."

Naturally, pink Muppet-Elizabeth was in the lead, conducting a gate room full of Atlantis Muppet-personnel in six evenly spaced, perfect rows through their synchronous dance moves. Voices echoed out into the corridors, carrying the polyphonic tune,

"Someone always playing corporation games,
Who cares they're always changing corporation names,
We just want to dance here, someone stole the stage,
They call us irresponsible, write us off the page,

Marconi plays the Mamba,
Listen to the radio,
Don't you remember?
We built this city,
We built this city on rock and roll!"

The dancers started to spin wildly, then pile on top of one another for the grand finale. The singers raised their voices until John imagined he could feel the railing under his hands shake in resonance.

"We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll,
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roooooll!"

Elizabeth, on top of the pyramid of Muppets, threw her arms into the air in triumph.

"Impressive," John said weakly.

"I feel the irresistible urge to make a TV show out of us," Rodney said, sounding equally thrown.

"Or at least record this for posterity."

John looked at Rodney. Rodney looked at John. There was no way they weren't both thinking the same thing: this would provide blackmail material for years to come.

"There's a digital camera in my lab," Rodney said and set off without waiting for a response.

John followed. And if he started singing, "You know I'm bad, I'm bad, you know it," under his breath, he really didn't mind all that much.


- end -

---

My sincerest apologies for this. *facepalms*

The songs in order of appearance (with slight changes in the lyrics in places):

"Be Prepared", OST The Lion King, as performed by Jeremy Irons in the movie
"Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship
"Baby Can I Hold You Tonight" by Tracy Chapman
"Don't Call Me Baby" by Madison Avenue
"Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" by Elton John
"Rock The Boat" by The Hues Corporation
"Ring Of Fire" by Johnny Cash
"We Built This City" by Starship
"Bad" by Michael Jackson

How Starship ended up twice on this list is beyond me. It's not like I'm a devoted fan.