FIC : Green Grow the Rushes (Star Trek XI)
for the request here -- Christmas Party. Like embarrassing confessions made after alot of egg nog; who's kissing who under mistletoe; who doesn't even *remember* the party the next day and wakes up in an odd location/not wearing the same clothes as last night. Bonus if people are waking up on the floor in the room the party was held. i just sat down and wrote this now, it's totally unbeta'd, but i wanted to toss it up before i let it get away with me like all my other prompts do. XD also do not ask me where the title came from, i have no idea, it just happened and i went with it.
Green Grow the Rushes
in which there is singing, mistletoe, dancing, mystery punch, pantsless Chekov and much more.
---
The music was audible from down the hall, even with the doors closed. This, Spock reflected, did not bode well for how the rest of the evening was to progress, especially given that it was barely twenty-hundred hours.
He would not usually have joined in a celebration such as this; of a holiday he did not observe and where there was likely to be an abundance of his fellow crewmembers making drunken fools out of themselves-- and while he could not deny he had always found it slightly amusing to note their reactions upon realizing he had a better memory of their exploits than they did themselves, he was not certain he wished to be playing that role tomorrow. Nonetheless, both Jim and Nyota had insisted he attend, and Doctor McCoy had seemed in danger of bursting a blood vessel upon hearing he planned to spend the evening alone. Spock had acquiesed to please his friends, which he thought was more in the spirit of the holiday than the party itself.
Surely, he thought later, the revelry in which he was caught up had very little to do with what he knew of Christmas as a religious holiday. While it was certainly not the most raucous party the Enterprise had ever seen, Spock felt comfortable in the assertion that it was close. He stood with his back to the wide window, sipping at a drink that Nyota had pushed into his hand before slipping onto the dance floor with Ensign Chekov; he did not know what was in the drink and could not guess from taste alone, but it was pleasantly cool in the warm room.
Abruptly Jim was at his side, leaning easily against the window with one arm, a drink in his other hand and a lazy grin on his face. "Good to see you, Commander," he said. "Good to see you drinking," he corrected himself, gesturing to Spock's glass. Spock did not remind him that alcohol had only a minimal effect on him; it would likely only send Jim on a mission to find something that would get him drunk, and that was not a pursuit Spock wanted any part of. Instead he lifted his cup in a gesture now familiar to him, and said, "I believe the customary word is 'Cheers'."
Jim's grin broadened even further, and Spock found himself somewhat gratified by the expression as the captain clinked his glass against Spock's. "Nyota gave me this," he felt compelled to add, holding up his mostly-empty cup. "I am unable to ascertain its contents-- are you familiar with the drink?"
Kirk shrugged. "It's Sulu's mystery punch-- no idea what's in it, but it's smooth as butter and gets you drunk faster than a shot contest with Chekov-- and that's saying something, the kid can put away vodka like it's water."
Spock nodded; if it was mostly alcohol he was safe, then, he reasoned, in having a second cup. The party milled around them; Sulu and Lieutenant Hannity danced something that might have been a tango if both of them were sober (it was nonetheless beautiful to watch), Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov cleared off one of the tables and began a shot contest referreed by Doctor McCoy (and Kirk had been right, the ensign's tolerance for vodka was prodigious) and there was a brief stir caused by Yeoman Rand throwing a drink in Mr. Riley's face, at which point he grabbed her and kissed her.
And all that occurred simply in the amount of time it took for Spock to finish one glass of punch. After he had emptied that he had a third; it was now becoming almost entertaining, watching Jim's reaction as he continued to drink unaffected. Though he was beginning to feel warmer than he initially had upon entering the room; he supposed that could be blamed on the number of people present, and the high level of activity increasing everyone's body temperature and therefore the temperature of the room. By the time he got to the end of that thought he could no longer remember why he'd begun thinking about the temperature of the room in the first place.
Then Nyota was coming toward them flushed and grinning. "Hi," she said, taking in Spock and Jim with one glance. "Having fun?"
Spock nodded slowly. "I believe that is an accurate description," he said solemnly. Beside him, Jim snorted, and Nyota favored the captain with a smug smile.
"Okay, you were right," said Jim as if she'd spoken, and she laughed in triumph, a toss of her head exposing the long line of her throat. Spock knew he was staring, but he knew it in a distant careless sort of way, and could neither stop himself nor bring himself to care.
That alone was strange enough to startle a poorly phrased question out of him, as he turned to Jim with narrowed eyes. "What did you put in my drink?"
But it was Nyota who laughed again, one hand sliding into his, their fingers twining together slowly; Spock's free hand clenched in a tight fist, fingernails digging half-moons into his palm, to keep from showing any sign of the shiver her touch sent through him. "Don't blame the Captain entirely," she murmured. "He wouldn't have known what to put in it if it weren't for me."
He looked at her with stunned eyes, the only sign of emotion on his face besides a faint olive tinge to his face and the tips of his ears. "What is the purpose of your collaborating to intoxicate me?" he asked, feeling slightly stupid.
Neither Jim nor Nyota answered him; their eyes met over his shoulder, and both smiled.
---
Near four a.m. the room had mostly cleared out. Yeoman Rand was sitting in front of a table full of empty egg nog glasses, with Hannity sitting across from her listening as Rand earnestly explained that it wasn't that unusual to have a crush on three people at once, really. Sulu was stretched out on one of the couches, snoring into the crook of his elbow. Scotty sat in a sprawl on the floor, a bottle of scotch by his left knee, playing solitaire and solidly ignoring Doctor McCoy and Nurse Chapel under the mistletoe-- they were going to have to get a room soon, he thought, they'd passed kissing and moved on to not-quite-groping one another several minutes ago.
Of the captain, Spock and Lieutenant Uhura, there was no sign. In fact, Scotty couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any of them-- once he and Chekov had gotten into the shot contest, things had gone a bit hazy. McCoy and Chapel seemed to have realized they had quarters with beds, and ran laughing toward the door, knocking over a table in the process. At the noise, Sulu sat up with a bleary groan, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"Morning," said Scotty with a grin, tipping him a salute. Sulu shook his head. "No it's not." Scotty shrugged. "Sure, but you've had a nice nap, haven't you?"
Sulu stood, groaning again. "Too much punch," he said, frowning. "That extra-- whatever it was Kirk gave me-- messed up the balance."
Scotty frowned. "Kirk gave you something to spike punch that already has alcohol as four-fifths of its ingredients?"
Sulu shrugged. "Yeah, it was some kind of chocolate liquor or something, I don't know. Said he was saving it for a special occasion and this oughta be it." He shrugged again. "I don't know, didn't really do anything special for me."
Before Scotty could answer, there was a commotion behind the couch Sulu had been sleeping on, and Chekov's head and shoulders appeared, his hair sticking out as if he'd been electrocuted. He seemed to have gone from fast asleep to wide awake in a span of seconds; couldn't be healthy, Scotty thought.
Chekov opened and closed his mouth a few times, then looked down at himself, then back up at Scotty. He appeared to think very hard about something for a few seconds, then asked very clearly, "Has anyone seen my trousers?"
- fin -
....okay so i do want to write the missing scene here, and probably will, but... not at work. XD XD XD hope the OP enjoys, thank you for a fun prompt!
Green Grow the Rushes
in which there is singing, mistletoe, dancing, mystery punch, pantsless Chekov and much more.
---
The music was audible from down the hall, even with the doors closed. This, Spock reflected, did not bode well for how the rest of the evening was to progress, especially given that it was barely twenty-hundred hours.
He would not usually have joined in a celebration such as this; of a holiday he did not observe and where there was likely to be an abundance of his fellow crewmembers making drunken fools out of themselves-- and while he could not deny he had always found it slightly amusing to note their reactions upon realizing he had a better memory of their exploits than they did themselves, he was not certain he wished to be playing that role tomorrow. Nonetheless, both Jim and Nyota had insisted he attend, and Doctor McCoy had seemed in danger of bursting a blood vessel upon hearing he planned to spend the evening alone. Spock had acquiesed to please his friends, which he thought was more in the spirit of the holiday than the party itself.
Surely, he thought later, the revelry in which he was caught up had very little to do with what he knew of Christmas as a religious holiday. While it was certainly not the most raucous party the Enterprise had ever seen, Spock felt comfortable in the assertion that it was close. He stood with his back to the wide window, sipping at a drink that Nyota had pushed into his hand before slipping onto the dance floor with Ensign Chekov; he did not know what was in the drink and could not guess from taste alone, but it was pleasantly cool in the warm room.
Abruptly Jim was at his side, leaning easily against the window with one arm, a drink in his other hand and a lazy grin on his face. "Good to see you, Commander," he said. "Good to see you drinking," he corrected himself, gesturing to Spock's glass. Spock did not remind him that alcohol had only a minimal effect on him; it would likely only send Jim on a mission to find something that would get him drunk, and that was not a pursuit Spock wanted any part of. Instead he lifted his cup in a gesture now familiar to him, and said, "I believe the customary word is 'Cheers'."
Jim's grin broadened even further, and Spock found himself somewhat gratified by the expression as the captain clinked his glass against Spock's. "Nyota gave me this," he felt compelled to add, holding up his mostly-empty cup. "I am unable to ascertain its contents-- are you familiar with the drink?"
Kirk shrugged. "It's Sulu's mystery punch-- no idea what's in it, but it's smooth as butter and gets you drunk faster than a shot contest with Chekov-- and that's saying something, the kid can put away vodka like it's water."
Spock nodded; if it was mostly alcohol he was safe, then, he reasoned, in having a second cup. The party milled around them; Sulu and Lieutenant Hannity danced something that might have been a tango if both of them were sober (it was nonetheless beautiful to watch), Mr. Scott and Mr. Chekov cleared off one of the tables and began a shot contest referreed by Doctor McCoy (and Kirk had been right, the ensign's tolerance for vodka was prodigious) and there was a brief stir caused by Yeoman Rand throwing a drink in Mr. Riley's face, at which point he grabbed her and kissed her.
And all that occurred simply in the amount of time it took for Spock to finish one glass of punch. After he had emptied that he had a third; it was now becoming almost entertaining, watching Jim's reaction as he continued to drink unaffected. Though he was beginning to feel warmer than he initially had upon entering the room; he supposed that could be blamed on the number of people present, and the high level of activity increasing everyone's body temperature and therefore the temperature of the room. By the time he got to the end of that thought he could no longer remember why he'd begun thinking about the temperature of the room in the first place.
Then Nyota was coming toward them flushed and grinning. "Hi," she said, taking in Spock and Jim with one glance. "Having fun?"
Spock nodded slowly. "I believe that is an accurate description," he said solemnly. Beside him, Jim snorted, and Nyota favored the captain with a smug smile.
"Okay, you were right," said Jim as if she'd spoken, and she laughed in triumph, a toss of her head exposing the long line of her throat. Spock knew he was staring, but he knew it in a distant careless sort of way, and could neither stop himself nor bring himself to care.
That alone was strange enough to startle a poorly phrased question out of him, as he turned to Jim with narrowed eyes. "What did you put in my drink?"
But it was Nyota who laughed again, one hand sliding into his, their fingers twining together slowly; Spock's free hand clenched in a tight fist, fingernails digging half-moons into his palm, to keep from showing any sign of the shiver her touch sent through him. "Don't blame the Captain entirely," she murmured. "He wouldn't have known what to put in it if it weren't for me."
He looked at her with stunned eyes, the only sign of emotion on his face besides a faint olive tinge to his face and the tips of his ears. "What is the purpose of your collaborating to intoxicate me?" he asked, feeling slightly stupid.
Neither Jim nor Nyota answered him; their eyes met over his shoulder, and both smiled.
---
Near four a.m. the room had mostly cleared out. Yeoman Rand was sitting in front of a table full of empty egg nog glasses, with Hannity sitting across from her listening as Rand earnestly explained that it wasn't that unusual to have a crush on three people at once, really. Sulu was stretched out on one of the couches, snoring into the crook of his elbow. Scotty sat in a sprawl on the floor, a bottle of scotch by his left knee, playing solitaire and solidly ignoring Doctor McCoy and Nurse Chapel under the mistletoe-- they were going to have to get a room soon, he thought, they'd passed kissing and moved on to not-quite-groping one another several minutes ago.
Of the captain, Spock and Lieutenant Uhura, there was no sign. In fact, Scotty couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any of them-- once he and Chekov had gotten into the shot contest, things had gone a bit hazy. McCoy and Chapel seemed to have realized they had quarters with beds, and ran laughing toward the door, knocking over a table in the process. At the noise, Sulu sat up with a bleary groan, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"Morning," said Scotty with a grin, tipping him a salute. Sulu shook his head. "No it's not." Scotty shrugged. "Sure, but you've had a nice nap, haven't you?"
Sulu stood, groaning again. "Too much punch," he said, frowning. "That extra-- whatever it was Kirk gave me-- messed up the balance."
Scotty frowned. "Kirk gave you something to spike punch that already has alcohol as four-fifths of its ingredients?"
Sulu shrugged. "Yeah, it was some kind of chocolate liquor or something, I don't know. Said he was saving it for a special occasion and this oughta be it." He shrugged again. "I don't know, didn't really do anything special for me."
Before Scotty could answer, there was a commotion behind the couch Sulu had been sleeping on, and Chekov's head and shoulders appeared, his hair sticking out as if he'd been electrocuted. He seemed to have gone from fast asleep to wide awake in a span of seconds; couldn't be healthy, Scotty thought.
Chekov opened and closed his mouth a few times, then looked down at himself, then back up at Scotty. He appeared to think very hard about something for a few seconds, then asked very clearly, "Has anyone seen my trousers?"
- fin -
....okay so i do want to write the missing scene here, and probably will, but... not at work. XD XD XD hope the OP enjoys, thank you for a fun prompt!