Letters 1/?
Title: Letters
Rating: T
Fandom: STxi
Disclaimer: That I need one ought to say something, yeah?
A/n: from this prompt on ST XI kink meme:
All the crew get fanmail, because of their cuteness and famousness. Jim loves it, Chekov gets more than anybody, Spock thinks it's illogical, Scotty gets sent lots of sandwiches in stasis units. McCoy doesn't get much, and when he does he blushes like a schoolgirl and gets teased mercilessly by the others.
But what happens when McCoy starts getting weird stalkery ones? Ones that are sent from places the Enterprise has docked recently?
"Ooh ho ho!" Scotty eyed the sandwich in stasis before him with glee. "I think this one's an egg salad sandwich! I haven't had one since I was in Glasgow last."
Jim watched his second officer reminisce on that sandwich, a far away look in his eyes for a long moment. "You gonna eat it?"
Scotty's eyes whipped to meet Jim's. "Aye, Captain. It's my sandwich, isn't it?"
"You're just starin' at it," Leonard pointed out. "If you're gonna eat it, do it before Jim does. He's got a hollow leg, and he'll take it if you're not careful.."
"I would not." Jim said indignantly. "And just," he drawled, in a fair imitation of his CMO's own accent, "because I can eat whatever I want and you can't, Bones, is no reason to be mean."
Leonard's eyes narrowed. "Shut up, Jim." He looked back at Scotty, who was still staring at his sandwich with pleased, wide eyes, and added, "Never mind, don't eat it yet. Lemme make sure it's not poisoned or something."
Scotty had by now learned that it was useless to argue with Leonard McCoy unless your name was Jim Kirk, and he surrendered his sandwich, watching it like a hawk.
"I'm not gonna eat it, Scotty," Leonard told him. "Or let Jim," he said and ignored Jim's faux-pouting. "I actually don't even know why I'm letting you eat it."
"Because it's a gift?" Scotty asked. "And it's rude to throw away gifts, as I'm sure your dear sweet mum taught you."
Leonard grunted in response. "Yeah, well, it's also probably been sent from Earth and that's a damn long way away. Might have gone off between here and there and I don't want you in my sickbay with food poisoning. It'd be easier on me if I just made you throw it away, gift from rabid fan or not."
"Sarah's not rabid," Scotty said. "She's nice! And she makes me sandwiches, Doctor. A lass like that wouldn't dream of poisoning anyone."
Jim gave Scotty a look. "You probably shouldn't encourage her."
"It's rude not to thank people," Scotty replied. "I can't just leave her hanging."
"Then thank her and tell her you're going into deep space or something so she stops sending you food," Jim said.
Scotty sighed and muttered something that resembled "yes sir" as he watched Leonard examine the sandwich.
Eventually, Leonard deemed it fit to eat and returned it to the engineer. "I should make you eat salad for dinner to make up for this."
"It is a salad, Doctor," Scotty said, a tad smugly.
"It's eggs and mayonnaise and pickles; that's not a salad."
"Sarah puts lettuce on it."
"If I put a bridle on you, does that make you a horse?"
Scotty chose to eat his sandwich instead of replying.
Leonard rolled his eyes, and there was a burst of laughter on the other side of the mess, where he discovered Chekov had received a package of what looked like ladies underwear, and Sulu looked like he was about to fall off his seat from laughing so hard. Chekov was redder than a boiled lobster and Leonard nudged Jim. "The Russian kid's still getting panties."
"Why can't I get panties in the mail?" Jim asked with a mock sigh.
"Because I'll make you throw them away?" Leonard asked rhetorically. "That's unsanitary and I will not have them around. And you get enough fan mail anyway."
"Speaking of which, are you still getting those creepy ones?"
"You mean the ones asking me to send my unwashed drawers to a PO box on Risa? Yeah, still getting 'em. Don't know how to stop it, either. Wish our emails weren't so easy to guess."
"At least they are all emails. If they were showing up at Jocelyn's, you might have more cause to worry."
Leonard shuddered. "God forbid. I think I'll have to warn Joss."
Jim pressed his thigh against Leonard's. "Good idea and I'm sure they'll stop soon," he said soothingly.
"'Soon' is not now, which I'd like it to be."
"Hey Joss," Leonard greeted when his ex-wife answered his comm.
"Hello, Leonard," she greeted back, cocking an eyebrow. "Joanna's at ballet practice right now, but if you call back in two hours, you can talk to her."
It had been to his joy that Jocelyn had made it easier to talk to their daughter in the wake of the Nero incident, and he nodded. "Will do, but I called to talk to you."
"What for?"
"I've been getting disturbing emails from someone, starting after the battle and they haven't petered off since shipping out." Leonard sighed. "And I thought I should warn you. They're starting to get graphic and I have no idea where the messages are coming from. I wanted to give you a heads up, just as a safety measure."
Jocelyn nodded. "Does Jim know?"
"Yeah. He's not happy, but not too worried about my safety. Neither am I, but I'm worried about you and Joanna. It's probably unnecessary, but just to be safe, I thought I should tell you."
"I'll be sure to let Clay know, and I'll ask everyone to keep an eye on Joanna."
For most of his life, Leonard had hated living in what was basically a hamlet in the middle of nowhere, but for the moment, he was grateful. Between them, he and Jocelyn were related to or knew half the county and Leonard himself was related to most of the town. Joanna was in safe hands.
Two days later, a message pinged into his inbox. Leonard had gotten wary of opening messages what weren't from either Star Fleet or addresses he knew, but after scanning it for malware, he hesitantly opened it.
Dear Leonard,
Have you sent those boxer shorts like I want you to? Did you cover them in your hot, sweet come and bag them up tight? When I get to Risa, I hope they're there. I love you, Leonard, and would love to know what you smell, what you taste like. I'm dying to make love to you. I want you to fill me up and never let me go.
Love,
Jesse
And then another one.
Dear Leonard,
Why don't you ever answer me? I've been sending you messages for weeks now, and you have never replied. Do you doubt my love, my sincerity? What do I need to do to prove it to you? Because I'm very serious. I love you, I want to marry you, and I want to build a life with you. I'll even join Star Fleet for you! I'm an aviophobic, just like you were, but I'll do it for you.
Please answer me.
Love,
Jesse
He ignored it, and that's all there was for a while from Jesse. He got other letters, too (mostly joking marriage proposals), as did Jim and Sulu, Chekov now owned more panties than all the panty-wearing females on the ship combined, and Scotty was going to get fat from all the sandwiches. Even Spock got letters, which, fortunately, Nyota mostly found amusing.
"Keptin," Chekov asked a week or so after the last note from Jesse. "What should I be doing with all of the panties? I feel it is being rude to throw them away, but they are troublesome."
Leonard thought it was hilarious, how earnestly distressed the kid sounded. "Chuck 'em."
"The ladies who sent them are never going to know, Chekov," Jim added. "So you can throw them away."
"But Keptin, I will know! I will know that I threw them away and I will feel bad! Shipping is expensive and they spent the credits to send them here."
"Yeeeah," agreed Jim. "But they're piling up, aren't they? You won't be hurting their feelings because they'll never know you threw them away." Chekov still looked conflicted and Jim sighed. "If I ordered you to throw them away, would that solve your moral dilemma?"
There was a pause, and then the kid nodded. "Yes, Keptin, it does."
"All right. Throw them away and that's an order."
"I don't know how Sulu does it," Leonard remarked as Chekov departed, leaving the two of them in Jim's ready room. "I think I might have killed him in the first ten minutes."
"Maybe he's getting some."
Leonard reached out and smacked Jim. "Did not need that mental image. Besides, Sulu's seeing Gaila and Chekov's sniffing after some guy in sciences."
"Why do you know this?" Jim asked. "Because for someone who bitches about gossip, you sure know what's going on."
"One of the many benefits of being a doctor, Jim," he said, lip curling slightly, "is that I either hear or am told things I really could have done without knowing. We've been out for a month and I can already tell you which ones of your crew are going to be brining back STIs that I'm going to have to cure on our first shore leave."
Jim wrinkled his nose. "Great."
"Tell me about it."
Jim sat up properly and shifted, stretching luxuriously. He smiled slyly when he caught Leonard watching him interestedly, and tilted his head toward the door. "Shall we?"
Dear Leonard,
I can't believe you're not answering my messages! I love you, don't you see that? If you don't answer me TODAY I will fucking kill myself!
Please, please answer me,
Jesse
Leonard paused and decided to comm Jim.
"My stalker is threatening to kill themselves."
"Oh."
"I'm going to reply this time, because I don't want that death on my hands, and I'm going to CC you and possibly Spock," Leonard said, resting his head on a propped up palm.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's only going to encourage this," Jim pointed out, and Leonard knew he'd be frowning.
"It's that or have that death on my head."
Jim sounded unhappy. "I...suppose. This worries more, Bones, than the other stuff."
"I know. It worries me, too. I don't want to engage this person, but I also don't want him or her to commit suicide. I'm a doctor, Jim. We try to prevent those."
A sigh. "I know. I'm going to email the appropriate people and I'll give you an address to forward to, too."
"All right," Leonard said. "Thanks."
"No problem," Jim replied.
Jesse,
Firstly, please don't kill yourself. I strongly advise you to seek counseling. The desire to commit suicide because someone you are interested in does not pay attention to you is very unhealthy and
Leonard paused. What the hell should he say? Frowning, he started at the screen before starting again.
it would be best for you to seek help. Second, please do not contact me again.
Dr. Leonard H. McCoy
Leonard stopped and re-read his message, trying to decide if this was the right thing to say. Minimizing the window, he went back to work until Jim messaged him with the email.
Bones,
FrancisLOleander@starfleet.mil
^ A guy Chris Pike knows in security. Chris says he's big on stopping this kind of shit.
Jim
Leonard sent the message and CC'd both Jim and Oleander, and hoped that this was the end of the story.
It wasn't.
Part two
Rating: T
Fandom: STxi
Disclaimer: That I need one ought to say something, yeah?
A/n: from this prompt on ST XI kink meme:
All the crew get fanmail, because of their cuteness and famousness. Jim loves it, Chekov gets more than anybody, Spock thinks it's illogical, Scotty gets sent lots of sandwiches in stasis units. McCoy doesn't get much, and when he does he blushes like a schoolgirl and gets teased mercilessly by the others.
But what happens when McCoy starts getting weird stalkery ones? Ones that are sent from places the Enterprise has docked recently?
"Ooh ho ho!" Scotty eyed the sandwich in stasis before him with glee. "I think this one's an egg salad sandwich! I haven't had one since I was in Glasgow last."
Jim watched his second officer reminisce on that sandwich, a far away look in his eyes for a long moment. "You gonna eat it?"
Scotty's eyes whipped to meet Jim's. "Aye, Captain. It's my sandwich, isn't it?"
"You're just starin' at it," Leonard pointed out. "If you're gonna eat it, do it before Jim does. He's got a hollow leg, and he'll take it if you're not careful.."
"I would not." Jim said indignantly. "And just," he drawled, in a fair imitation of his CMO's own accent, "because I can eat whatever I want and you can't, Bones, is no reason to be mean."
Leonard's eyes narrowed. "Shut up, Jim." He looked back at Scotty, who was still staring at his sandwich with pleased, wide eyes, and added, "Never mind, don't eat it yet. Lemme make sure it's not poisoned or something."
Scotty had by now learned that it was useless to argue with Leonard McCoy unless your name was Jim Kirk, and he surrendered his sandwich, watching it like a hawk.
"I'm not gonna eat it, Scotty," Leonard told him. "Or let Jim," he said and ignored Jim's faux-pouting. "I actually don't even know why I'm letting you eat it."
"Because it's a gift?" Scotty asked. "And it's rude to throw away gifts, as I'm sure your dear sweet mum taught you."
Leonard grunted in response. "Yeah, well, it's also probably been sent from Earth and that's a damn long way away. Might have gone off between here and there and I don't want you in my sickbay with food poisoning. It'd be easier on me if I just made you throw it away, gift from rabid fan or not."
"Sarah's not rabid," Scotty said. "She's nice! And she makes me sandwiches, Doctor. A lass like that wouldn't dream of poisoning anyone."
Jim gave Scotty a look. "You probably shouldn't encourage her."
"It's rude not to thank people," Scotty replied. "I can't just leave her hanging."
"Then thank her and tell her you're going into deep space or something so she stops sending you food," Jim said.
Scotty sighed and muttered something that resembled "yes sir" as he watched Leonard examine the sandwich.
Eventually, Leonard deemed it fit to eat and returned it to the engineer. "I should make you eat salad for dinner to make up for this."
"It is a salad, Doctor," Scotty said, a tad smugly.
"It's eggs and mayonnaise and pickles; that's not a salad."
"Sarah puts lettuce on it."
"If I put a bridle on you, does that make you a horse?"
Scotty chose to eat his sandwich instead of replying.
Leonard rolled his eyes, and there was a burst of laughter on the other side of the mess, where he discovered Chekov had received a package of what looked like ladies underwear, and Sulu looked like he was about to fall off his seat from laughing so hard. Chekov was redder than a boiled lobster and Leonard nudged Jim. "The Russian kid's still getting panties."
"Why can't I get panties in the mail?" Jim asked with a mock sigh.
"Because I'll make you throw them away?" Leonard asked rhetorically. "That's unsanitary and I will not have them around. And you get enough fan mail anyway."
"Speaking of which, are you still getting those creepy ones?"
"You mean the ones asking me to send my unwashed drawers to a PO box on Risa? Yeah, still getting 'em. Don't know how to stop it, either. Wish our emails weren't so easy to guess."
"At least they are all emails. If they were showing up at Jocelyn's, you might have more cause to worry."
Leonard shuddered. "God forbid. I think I'll have to warn Joss."
Jim pressed his thigh against Leonard's. "Good idea and I'm sure they'll stop soon," he said soothingly.
"'Soon' is not now, which I'd like it to be."
"Hey Joss," Leonard greeted when his ex-wife answered his comm.
"Hello, Leonard," she greeted back, cocking an eyebrow. "Joanna's at ballet practice right now, but if you call back in two hours, you can talk to her."
It had been to his joy that Jocelyn had made it easier to talk to their daughter in the wake of the Nero incident, and he nodded. "Will do, but I called to talk to you."
"What for?"
"I've been getting disturbing emails from someone, starting after the battle and they haven't petered off since shipping out." Leonard sighed. "And I thought I should warn you. They're starting to get graphic and I have no idea where the messages are coming from. I wanted to give you a heads up, just as a safety measure."
Jocelyn nodded. "Does Jim know?"
"Yeah. He's not happy, but not too worried about my safety. Neither am I, but I'm worried about you and Joanna. It's probably unnecessary, but just to be safe, I thought I should tell you."
"I'll be sure to let Clay know, and I'll ask everyone to keep an eye on Joanna."
For most of his life, Leonard had hated living in what was basically a hamlet in the middle of nowhere, but for the moment, he was grateful. Between them, he and Jocelyn were related to or knew half the county and Leonard himself was related to most of the town. Joanna was in safe hands.
Two days later, a message pinged into his inbox. Leonard had gotten wary of opening messages what weren't from either Star Fleet or addresses he knew, but after scanning it for malware, he hesitantly opened it.
Dear Leonard,
Have you sent those boxer shorts like I want you to? Did you cover them in your hot, sweet come and bag them up tight? When I get to Risa, I hope they're there. I love you, Leonard, and would love to know what you smell, what you taste like. I'm dying to make love to you. I want you to fill me up and never let me go.
Love,
Jesse
And then another one.
Dear Leonard,
Why don't you ever answer me? I've been sending you messages for weeks now, and you have never replied. Do you doubt my love, my sincerity? What do I need to do to prove it to you? Because I'm very serious. I love you, I want to marry you, and I want to build a life with you. I'll even join Star Fleet for you! I'm an aviophobic, just like you were, but I'll do it for you.
Please answer me.
Love,
Jesse
He ignored it, and that's all there was for a while from Jesse. He got other letters, too (mostly joking marriage proposals), as did Jim and Sulu, Chekov now owned more panties than all the panty-wearing females on the ship combined, and Scotty was going to get fat from all the sandwiches. Even Spock got letters, which, fortunately, Nyota mostly found amusing.
"Keptin," Chekov asked a week or so after the last note from Jesse. "What should I be doing with all of the panties? I feel it is being rude to throw them away, but they are troublesome."
Leonard thought it was hilarious, how earnestly distressed the kid sounded. "Chuck 'em."
"The ladies who sent them are never going to know, Chekov," Jim added. "So you can throw them away."
"But Keptin, I will know! I will know that I threw them away and I will feel bad! Shipping is expensive and they spent the credits to send them here."
"Yeeeah," agreed Jim. "But they're piling up, aren't they? You won't be hurting their feelings because they'll never know you threw them away." Chekov still looked conflicted and Jim sighed. "If I ordered you to throw them away, would that solve your moral dilemma?"
There was a pause, and then the kid nodded. "Yes, Keptin, it does."
"All right. Throw them away and that's an order."
"I don't know how Sulu does it," Leonard remarked as Chekov departed, leaving the two of them in Jim's ready room. "I think I might have killed him in the first ten minutes."
"Maybe he's getting some."
Leonard reached out and smacked Jim. "Did not need that mental image. Besides, Sulu's seeing Gaila and Chekov's sniffing after some guy in sciences."
"Why do you know this?" Jim asked. "Because for someone who bitches about gossip, you sure know what's going on."
"One of the many benefits of being a doctor, Jim," he said, lip curling slightly, "is that I either hear or am told things I really could have done without knowing. We've been out for a month and I can already tell you which ones of your crew are going to be brining back STIs that I'm going to have to cure on our first shore leave."
Jim wrinkled his nose. "Great."
"Tell me about it."
Jim sat up properly and shifted, stretching luxuriously. He smiled slyly when he caught Leonard watching him interestedly, and tilted his head toward the door. "Shall we?"
Dear Leonard,
I can't believe you're not answering my messages! I love you, don't you see that? If you don't answer me TODAY I will fucking kill myself!
Please, please answer me,
Jesse
Leonard paused and decided to comm Jim.
"My stalker is threatening to kill themselves."
"Oh."
"I'm going to reply this time, because I don't want that death on my hands, and I'm going to CC you and possibly Spock," Leonard said, resting his head on a propped up palm.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's only going to encourage this," Jim pointed out, and Leonard knew he'd be frowning.
"It's that or have that death on my head."
Jim sounded unhappy. "I...suppose. This worries more, Bones, than the other stuff."
"I know. It worries me, too. I don't want to engage this person, but I also don't want him or her to commit suicide. I'm a doctor, Jim. We try to prevent those."
A sigh. "I know. I'm going to email the appropriate people and I'll give you an address to forward to, too."
"All right," Leonard said. "Thanks."
"No problem," Jim replied.
Jesse,
Firstly, please don't kill yourself. I strongly advise you to seek counseling. The desire to commit suicide because someone you are interested in does not pay attention to you is very unhealthy and
Leonard paused. What the hell should he say? Frowning, he started at the screen before starting again.
it would be best for you to seek help. Second, please do not contact me again.
Dr. Leonard H. McCoy
Leonard stopped and re-read his message, trying to decide if this was the right thing to say. Minimizing the window, he went back to work until Jim messaged him with the email.
Bones,
FrancisLOleander@starfleet.mil
^ A guy Chris Pike knows in security. Chris says he's big on stopping this kind of shit.
Jim
Leonard sent the message and CC'd both Jim and Oleander, and hoped that this was the end of the story.
It wasn't.
Part two