This was supposed to be a song-fic. But it isn't.

It's just random SkipperXHans with Manfredi and Johnson making an appearance, just because I luffs them too much. XD

Enjoy SkySpiritsTalentShow!
And all others reading this as well.

Beware Johnson's Potty mouth. BAD JOHNSON, BAD!

Skipper groaned and dropped his head heavily into his hands, the dull thump causing Hans to jump.

"This is pointless!" He moaned. "I am N E V E R going to be Manfredi."

The Dane swivelled the papers around to face him. "No one is asking you to be." He said, flicking through the vocabulary without interest. "The guy is a freak. What is it again? English, French, Spanish, German, Chinese. Not to mention broken Greek, Maori and sign language. "

"You forgot Morse code." Skipper grunted, lifting a finger.

Hans raised an eye-brow. "Okay list Nazi, He can speak Morse code as well."

Skipper chuckled. "Yes, because it is possible to speak Morse code."

Hans pulled a face and brushed his dark hair back from his face. "Well, of course you can. I mean Boop, boop, bop, boop,bop bop, bop, boop. Oh, burn!"

Skipper blinked his cobalt eyes inexpressively. "You have no idea what you just said did you?"

"Absolutely damn none. Care to enlighten me?"

"Nope. Hey! Look!" Skipper growled, lifting the thick sheets of language and hitting the other male with it lightly. "You are terrible, I'm off topic again!"

Hans rubbed his hands together and chuckled. "That's the idea! I'm just so eeeevil!"

Skipper hit him again. "Stop it Cruella devil! I really don't care!"

"Of course you do!" Hans gasped. "I would look great in Dalmatian!"

"Shut up. Please!" Skipper whined, reading the words again, slumping further back into his chair.

Hans lent forward, resting his chin on his fist and idly toying with the chewed red pencil. A silence grew between the pair of them, the Danes short attention span diminishing like a scrap of paper in a blazing inferno.

"Ok! I don't get it, why the heck does she want you learning Danish?" He finally demanded.

Skipper raised an eye-brow, flicking over the page. "Elementary my dear Dane. You, are Danish. We, are friends. I, need some form of second language." He shrugged. "The rest is Johnsons twisted mind."

"Heard that." She stated, breezing through the room and clipping him over the head as she passed, green eyes glittering playfully.

"Humph." He snorted, pushing the sheets towards Hans. "Test me." He commanded.

"Ok. Green."

"Something on the first two pages."

Hans snickered. "It is."

Skipper faltered. "Oh."

"Right!" Hans grinned. "We are doing it my way now!" He scooped up the sheets of paper and dropped the on the floor.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

Hans leaned over and grasped the elder's hands in his own and took a deep breath. "Elementary my dear American, you are Learning, using auditory memory."

Skipper opened his mouth to protest but was cut short by a meaningful glance from the warm eyed Dane. He sighed and motioned with their joined hands for him to continue.

"Ok. Lytte og gentag."

Skipper blinked.

"Listen and repeat." Hans sighed, tapping skippers head playfully. "Is anybody home up there? Or is it just storage space now?"

The ebony haired male frowned slightly, eyes tired. "Get on with it Søpapegøjer."

He smiled and looked up mischievously. "Giv mig din hand." He stated.

Skipper frowned and copied him, mouth struggling with the proper pronunciation, eyes flashing with frustration.

Hans repeated the words again. "Giv mig din hand."

The American was closer this time "Giv mig din hand." He repeated.

"Good!" Hans praised, squeezing his hands lightly. "Now what do you think it means?"

Skipper shrugged. "I don't know. Is it something to do with hands? Or Hans? Or you and hands?" He hesitated. "It's nothing dirty is it?" he asked suspiciously, receiving a round of laughter from the slightly younger male.

"No." He grinned. "It means, give me your hand."

"Oh." He mused. "Giv mig din hand, give me your hand…"

"Jeg bygge et slot ud af sand."

"Ho' crap… Uh, Again?"

"Jeg bygge et slot ud af sand." He repeated, slower than before, breaking down the sentence into bite sized chunks.

Skipper closed his eyes and bopped his head with each syllable. "Jeg bygge et slot ud af sand."

The Dane smiled. "Witch means…"

Skipper narrowed his eyes. "I have lots of sand?"

"Close, I build a castle out of sand."

He smiled quizzically. "Odd phrase." He noted.

"Any odder than give me your hand?"

The blue eyed man shrugged. "Not that big of a stretch I guess."

Hans nodded slowly and recited another phrase. "En eller anden måde, et eller andet sted, engang. Can you handle that?"

But Skipper was already relaying the sentence, words a bit sketchy in places and pronunciation questionable, but the idea was there. "It's something about cheese isn't it?" Skipper grinned.

"Cheese?" Hans shrieked, "Where the heck did you conjure the idea from!"

"I'm hungry all right!" He defended, "But if it's not cheese then what is it?"

"It means Anyplace, anywhere, anytime."

The blue eyed male cracked a small smile. "Ok, so I now know three pointless Danish phrases. Care to teach me something I can actually use?"

The chestnut eyes glinted . "Fine Skipper. Jeg elsker dig."

A faint flicker of recognition flashed through Skippers eyes. "Hold on…" He said, dragging the words out as he slipped away from the Dane.

His attention turned to the loose leaves on the floor and bent over to scrape through them.

Hans felt a cold sweat start to grow on the back of his neck, fingers twitching uncontrollably as he balled them into fists. "You are not going to find it on those Skipper." He urged, swallowing the ball of panic rising in his throat.

"Shhh!" He demanded. "It's on here I know it is…" His voice dropped away as he stared at the final sheet of paper, eyes dancing with confusion.

The Dane giggled nervously. "Good joke right?" He asked, casting his gaze towards his quivering hands.

"Sure Søpapegøjer." Skipper purred.

Hans jumped and span around in surprise as the words floating just past his ears, stopping suddenly seconds before he slammed into skipper, the older male hovering over him like a shadow. His hands moved to his shoulders, lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"It's a joke." He continued, moving closer, nose brushing the others as their eyes widened. "Nice lie."

The Dane was about to protest when he was silenced by a pair of soft lips covering his own, commanding and desperate at the same time. Hans's arms move of their own accord to knot around the Americans neck, eyes flickering closed and body rejoicing at the aching need being filled in. Skipper chuckled into the desperate lips, tearing himself away just, just long enough to whisper,

"Jeg elsker dig too, you crazy Dane."

Johnson smirked wildly and crossed her arms over her chest, watching from the balcony door as the two oblivious soldiers continued to kiss.

"How in the name of Neptune did you know that would work?" Manfredi Questioned, Johnson leaping backwards at the shock.

"God." She gasped. "How the fuck did you get there?"

The ginger grinned, waggling his fingers in her face. "We hippies have many undiscovered talents! We need to be quiet like the wind so the cops can't get our weed…" He joked, laughing as she batted his hands away from his face.

"Cut the crap retard." She giggled, shoving him in the chest.

He whimpered, brown eyes growing wide and he reached up to cover where she had pushed him. "Ow!" He whined. "Don't you know how horribly fragile I am? I've probably bruised terribly!"

"Oh go die in a hole!" She dismissed, peering back around the door frame.

He crept up behind her hand draped an arm over her shoulder. "But I don't know how to dig a hole. Can you dig one for me?"

"No, get a shovel and do it yourself you lazy prick!"

He gasped in feigned shock. "But I might break a nail!"

She looked up. "Don't let this face fool you, I really do care Manfredi, I really do."

"Yes!" He cheered. "I knew it! But seriously how did you get them to do that?" He asked.

"Oh." She laughed. "I did nothing. I only got them I the same room and sexual tension did the rest."

Manfredi blinked, toying with the crazy bracelet around his wrist. "They have sexual tension?"

The blonde sighed. "You don't pay attention to anything, do you?"

"I'm sorry, what was that? I was distracted by the shiny door knob."

She rolled her green eyes and took another look inside. "Holy Shit! We might want to stop them before they start going at it on the table!" She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"And just how do we do that?" Manfredi asked, leaning over her shoulder, cringing at the sight of the two soldiers making out.

Johnson bared her sharp teeth. "Easy."

Skipper jumped away as he heard the loud shout, instantly fixing his hair and clothes. "Manfredi?" He shouted.

The ginger Looked sheepishly up from the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey Skippy. Sup Hans."

"Sup?" Hans replied, one eye-brow raised.

"Oh my god!" Johnson yelled. "Manfredi you klutz!"

The lieutenant sat up and glared openly at the girl. "Yep. That's me. Klutzy old manfredi, Oh wait… Oops!" He mocked, swinging out a leg and catching the team leaders, send her crashing to the floor as well.

"Bitch, it's on." She growled, sitting up and leaping into a attack position.

Manfredi Laughed. "Bring it!" He retaliated, getting painfully to his feet.

The leader took a step forward and he rushed backwards out the door, screaming as loud as possible. "FREEDOM AND PEACE FOR ALL I SAY!"

"WIMP!" Johnson retorted, sprinting lightly after the lanky soldier.

Hans Looked back up at Skipper. "What the heck was that?"

Skippers shoulders slumped. "A normal Tuesday." He sighed.

The Dane was quiet for a moment before grinning predatorily up at the ebony haired male. "When can I make-out with you again?" he questioned, eyes glinting sharply.

Skipper smiled and hauled him off the chair. "En eller anden måde, et eller andet sted, engang." He chuckled.

"Good." He replied before reeling the older soldier in for another hungry kiss.

TROLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLO.

Not a song-fic, but I did use some of the lyrics :D

By the way, all you reviews make my day! Lol, that rhymed… ANYWAY! I hope you liked it because I did when I really should be studying, so if I fail my social studies exam, I'm blaming you all!

By the way, yes, I do picture Manfredi as a childish, joking, multi-language speaking freak and Johnson as a swearing, crazy, fight filled mother fire-trucker!

And the sharp teeth is related to the "UNIT K" thing from Chapter 4.

K. That's it. Bye.