A/N: This one's new to all my writing communities, so hooray for a premiere! Just a bit of fun that slammed into my head while I was on one of my long drives to CA (from WA) for a journalism gig. The song came on the radio and the ensuing plot bunny pretty much raped my face until I proceeded to write it...lol

Mess had started out in its usual fashion: Clay sat with his men instead of with the other officers to avoid the soul-sucking boredom and superior attitudes that others of high rank tended to dole out; Roque sat beside him and either traded banter with or scowled at the younger members of the team; Pooch was quick with dishing out insults while correcting Jensen's lack in architectural integrity; Jensen was swatting Pooch's "helpful' hands away from the Leaning Tower of Mashed Potato, Corn, and Fake Steak (as he dubbed it) that he was constructing out of his and Cougar's meals; Cougar watched with amusement and would occasionally add more building supplies from his plate to help reinforce the quickly-collapsing structure.

All in all, it was a typical lunch full of laughter and Losers shenanigans that everyone else in the mess hall learned to ignore. As long as food didn't go flying in their direction only to land with a splat against the back of someone's head, everyone was typically happy. Most of the time.

Three men watched the childish behavior from a table across the hall and shook their heads. In particular, they kept their eyes on the computer tech who they had given a rush job on a computer fix early that morning. Very early. The machine held important documentation that needed to be retrieved as soon as possible, an order they thought they had been very clear on giving. Yet there the man was, playing games with his food instead of eating it, letting his duty go completely ignored so he could waste time with his idiot teammates.

Dodst threw down his napkin in irritation. "Come on," was all he needed to say, the other two quick to follow his lead.

Pooch glanced up over Jensen's shoulder and saw the clenched jaws on the approaching men. "Uh-oh, J, you're in trouble now," he whispered in a teasing tone.

Jensen looked back briefly before ducking his head with a moan. He didn't get a chance to say anything as Dodst stepped into his space, leaning one hand down on the table to hover over the tech in an even more threatening manner. Pooch kept the grin on his face, watching intently to see what fun would come of this encounter; Roque kept eating like nothing was happening; Cougar gently slid the tray with their team creation towards him, away from the possible line of fire, and proceeded to tamper with it; and Clay merely sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he casually watched. The three men probably wouldn't start anything real right there in the middle of mess, not with officers present, but as uncaring as the rest of the Losers looked, they'd be ready to back Jensen in a heartbeat if they needed to. In the meantime, they'd simply allow themselves to be entertained by however their tech decided to weasel his way out of his current situation.

"Jensen, we told you we needed that computer back ASAP," Dodst snarled. "I don't see my computer. Do you?" he turned to confirm with his two friends, both of which shook their heads. Leaning even closer to Jensen's face, he practically snarled, "You misunderstand the meaning of 'important, classified documents,' soldier? I need my files. Now!"

Jensen had kept his head ducked throughout the scolding, but the moment the Losers caught the tiny little smirk tug at his lips they knew the show was about to begin. Without lifting his head, the tech spoke in a soft, conversational tone.

"What you want," he started, then paused as he turned his head just enough to quirk one eye towards Dodst, the smile growing. "Baby, I got."

"Oh no," Pooch laughed.

Jensen sat up straight, forcing Dodst to lean back. The tech swiveled in his chair to face the three men. "What you need," he continued in the same relaxed, talkative manner. "Do you know I got it?"

Roque sighed and let his fork fall back to his tray.

Jake stood up and spread his arms out to his sides, shaking his head. "All I'm askin'," he said a little louder, "is for a little respect when you come home."

Pooch pinched his thumb and forefinger close together and added, "Just a little bit."

Jensen didn't look at the transport specialist, but they saw the thankful smile spread further on his face. He placed his hand on Dodst's shoulder. "Hey baby-"

Pooch added another, "Just a little bit."

"-When you get home," Jensen continued without missing a beat, waiting for Pooch to toss in another of his lines before finishing with an imploring gaze. "Mister."

Pooch spat out the last spoken "just a little bit" before coming to his feet, winking at the tech. "Boy, you need to do Aretha some justice," he declared, and promptly dove into the next verse in complete song.

"I ain't gonna do you wrong while you're gone," he sang, pointing at Dodst and his crew, moving with the music. Jensen swayed with him and provided the back-up "oooh's" at the appropriate intervals. He also took over the "just a little bit" interjections as Pooch finished out the verse.

During this, Roque looked more and more annoyed as he watched Pooch and Jensen dance around the now confused and seemingly embarrassed invading team. He stood up at the end of the verse and glared at his two friends.

"You both sound like dying chickens in a barbed-wire fence," he spat out. "Miss Franklin deserves better than that."

And to Pooch, Jensen's, and Cougar's delight (and Clay's utter disbelief), Roque picked up the third verse of the song. And he sounded damn good.

The scarred man didn't dance around like Jensen and Pooch did as they both picked up the roles of back-up singers; just stood there pointing and gesturing like a preacher giving a sermon, never taking his eyes off Dodst and his men. The effect was even more amusing, inciting chuckles from other men around the hall. As Roque finished up, the sound of silverware beating on metal in time to the music had them turning to see Cougar playing "drums" on his plate. Jensen smiled and swiveled around to the three men who were standing with jaws agape, and he began to mimic the sound of the sax being played during the song's musical interlude. Pooch and Roque picked up the sounds of the other brass instruments, and soon people all around the room where either clapping to the beat or likewise using their forks and spoons as drumsticks.

As the singing started up again, by some unspoken agreement the three performers each took a line. Jensen started, leaning in towards Dodst's face. "Ooo, your kisses."

Pooch and Roque leaned forward with their added, "Ooh," and Pooch rotated with Jensen for his line: "Sweeter than honey."

Jensen and Roque glanced at each other, sharing the next, "Ooh," before Roque traded with Pooch. "And guess what?"

The rotation shifted again, putting Jensen back in the front. "So is my money."

They kept it up until the end of the verse, bringing it back to Jensen for the most memorable part of the song. Pooch and Roque let him take it, keeping up with swaying side to side in the background as Jensen bounced up onto the tabletop.

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me! R-E-S-P-E-C-T, take care, TCB! Oh!"

He stayed up there for the rest of the song, dancing along the table while being careful not to step on anyone's food. Pooch and Roque were on the ground, keeping Dodst and his men pinned in as they sang the, "Sock it to me," lines in perfect harmony and timing to Jensen's performance. They finally gave the three red-faced men an opening as they neared the end of the song, allowing them to back away from the insane team. As they reached the exit, Dodst pointed his finger at Jensen and shouted at him.

"I want that machine back by the end of the day!" he ordered.

Jensen nodded, and shouted back over the chorus Pooch and Roque were still belting out, "Don't worry! It's done! Your sacred list of porn videos is safe in my barracks!"

Dodst clamped his mouth shut tight and stormed out of mess, his two men practically falling over each other in pursuit. Everyone in the hall laughed loudly and applauded wildly, glad that once again the Losers managed to come through with some good meal entertainment. Besides that, Dodst was an ass and it was good to see someone get the better of him.

Jensen, Pooch, and Roque took their seats, Jensen sliding the tray o' creation back towards him. "I think we need a piece of broccoli like right….here," he motioned.

The pre-song food antics began again as if nothing had occurred, and Clay couldn't help but run a hand over his smiling visage as he stifled a chuckle. He led one crazy-ass team, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

The End!