Written for Mendeia during a drabble meme. The song that Max and Norman are dancing to is Luca Turilli's "King of the Nordic Twilight". There's a DDR booth at my local movie theatre, which seems like something the Mighty One would show proficiency/interest in. Cookies if you recognize the reference to the episode "Beetlemania."
Shall We Dance?
It was the Mighty One's idea, which was the only reason Norman even considered acquiescing. "I don't dance," he frowned severely, crossing hulking arms across his chest.
Max grinned at him knowingly as he fed a couple of dollars into a machine. Norman watched it spit out quarters and felt his resolve waning. "Come on, big guy," the boy pleaded. "You were pretty good when we had to do our routine for those beetles."
Norman sighed and stepped onto the DDR console. He waited while Max made a song selection, and was suddenly overstimulated by the neon lights and complicated music. "I don't get it," Norman muttered, stepping experimentally on the arrow directly in front of him.
Max laughed. "See, you follow the pattern on the screen," he pointed. "When the arrow gets to the very top, you step on it. I mean, er, dance."
Norman raised an eyebrow. Greatly put upon, his next three steps - stomps, really - were all "Too Early!"
"It's gotta be in time with the music," the Mighty One said patiently, trying not to out-and-out laugh. It wasn't that he didn't take his Guardian seriously; it was just that Norman looked ridiculously out of place, and his concentration only made it more endearing. "Hey, that's good, Normy!" the boy said approvingly as Norman made it through an entire verse of the song with nary a missed step.
"Thanks," Norman said with a grin. "I think I'm getting the hang of this." He and Max both laughed as they kicked their legs out simultaneously, hitting the foot pads together.
They were on the third round when Virgil found them, carrying a cone of cotton candy in one feathered, anthropomorphic hand. "There is no doubt you are the Mighty One," he complimented Max, the corners of his beak turning up in a smile. "It's not everybody who can get him to dance."
Norman blinked, and then stuck his tongue out at the ancient fowl. Max snickered.
"Yes, well, if you're quite done," Virgil retorted, though his eyes were kind, bemused even; "The movie will start in approximately seven minutes."