I CAN HAZ LULZ?
This may or may not be set in the new Star Trek reboot verse, I can't tell. Having never seen the new movie, I understood what was going on perfectly, so old Trek knowledge works just as well.
from benebu who ganked it from st_xi_kink may I proudly present to you; JIM CAN HAZ CHEEZBURGER (being conversational in LOLspeak is necessary to understand this crack fic)
Link to benebu's reccing of this fic
There's still smoke rising from the translator device strapped around Jim's head, and Jim's sitting in the midst of it, looking shell-shocked, his hair sticking out every which way. Scotty winces.
"Think I may have made a wee miscalculation there -" He laughs nervously. "Away mission's gonna have to wait, I'm afraid, Captain, unless you can figure out some kind'a sign language you can speak to each other in..."
Jim coughs, and waves the smoke away from his face, and Bones scowls, arms folded, as Scotty removes the device with a pair of very large tongs and drops it into its container for safekeeping and repair. Damn alien devices. Always malfunctioning. "Jim, you all right?"
I...CAN HAS...CHEEZBURGER? Jim says slowly, patting down his hair and looking imploringly up. Bones blinks.
"What?"
IS IT CAN BE CHEEZBURGER TIEM?
"A cheeseburger sounds good," Scotty mutters, rooting in his toolkit, and Jim grins.
"I told you not to skip breakfast," Bones scolds, ignoring the weird grammar for now, because Jim's always turning up hungry at the oddest of times. "But since that mission's apparently scrubbed, I guess we can go grab some lunch. After we go to Sickbay, and only if you're sure you're feeling okay after that."
Jim stands, and slaps him on the back. HUNGREE JIM IZ HUNGREE, he says disturbingly, and heads jauntily out, whistling.
Bones follows, not sure what else to do.
>^;^<
OM NOM NOM. OM NOM NOM NOM NOM.
The whole rest of the mess hall is dead silent as they watch...and listen...to Captain Kirk enjoying his burger. How he can eat and talk at the same time is a mystery to Bones, but Jim's managing it.
Problem is, he's not saying anything coherent.
OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM
Bones chews his own cheez- cheeseburger slowly, staring. He swallows. He stares some more. Jim's showing no signs of letting up.
OM NOM NOM NOM. OM NOM OM NOM NOM NOM
Slamming a hand suddenly down on the table and making the cutlery rattle - Ensign Young drops her tray in surprise - Bones roars, "Will you cut that out?"
Jim just pops the last bite in his mouth and, disturbingly, licks his chops like a cat, in obvious enjoyment. Bones' mouth drops open.
NAO IZ TIEM FOR CHAIR.
>^;^<
He follows Jim to the bridge, where Jim promptly sits down in the big chair, curls his legs up under him, and smiles beatifically. I IZ KEPTAIN. I HAS A COMMAND.
"Doctor, why is the Captain speaking in that manner?" Spock inquires, calm as usual, and Bones shrugs his shoulders helplessly.
"His translator malfunctioned. He's perfectly healthy otherwise."
"Should he not be in Sickbay?"
"I tried to get him to lie down for a while, but he kept insisting on cheeseburgers. I thought I'd humor him for a while, see what he'd do."
Behind them, Jim spins the chair around. I HAS A CHAIR. WHOA IZ DIZZEE CHAIR. Chekov stifles a snort.
Spock lifts an eyebrow. "The Captain is obviously not fit for command."
"Yeah. Jim, that's enough. Enough, Jim. These games are all fine 'n' dandy but you're coming with me now. C'mon." Bones grabs Jim's arm and yanks him up and over to the turbolift, Jim protesting all the way.
DO NOT WANT
"Captain," Spock says, sliding smoothly into the chair, "do not be concerned. I am quite capable of taking command until you are well again. Should a problem arise, I will be certain to contact you."
NOOOO HE BE STEALIN MAI COMMAND is the last thing anyone on the bridge hears before the doors shut.
Jim seems to have forgotten about Spock's traumatic theft of his command already. He's reclining on a bed in Sickbay, enjoying the attentions of Nurse Chapel, as usual. She's a patient woman, but Bones can tell even her patience is wearing thin, and when she cracks, he's not sure if it'll be violent or simply hysterical.
IM IN UR SICKBAY, says Jim with a wink in Bones' direction, HITTIN ON UR NURSEZ.
"No. You're not. You're in my Sickbay getting a full neurological scan and complete blood workup." Jim tugs at his shirt and Bones ignores him, busy calibrating his tricorder. Jim tugs again.
CRANKEE BONES IZ CRANKEE
"I'm not cranky," snaps Bones, "I'm deeply concerned for your mental health. Just sit still, for god's sake, Jim. This won't take too long."
Jim brightens. LONG JIM IS LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
"Then," Bones says, raising his voice to be heard over his intonations, "you can go back to your quarters and talk to yourself for the next eight hours if you want. I don't give a damn. Just let me do my job."
-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG. Christine is chewing the inside of her cheek as she draws his blood, her shoulders quivering ever so slightly. Jim looks up at her again and grins toothily. LONG JIM IS LOOOOOOOONG, he reminds her, just to be sure she's heard.
"Childish Jim is fucking childish," Bones mutters under his breath.
CRANKEE BONES IZ CRANKEE retorts Jim. I LUVS MAI BONES.
Bones raises an eyebrow. He loves his Jim too, but hell if Jim's getting any loving from him tonight, in the ridiculous state he's in.
CAN HAS MOAR CHEEZBURGER?
"Nooo," drawls Bones. "Your cholesterol is high enough as it is. You can yammer on about how you're as thin as ever, but that doesn't excuse the fact that you exist on a diet of red meat and sugar."
OM NOM NOM NOM says Jim, reflectively.
Scans come back normal; bloodwork comes back clean. There's nothing wrong with Jim. He's just stuck speaking the wrong language.
And who better to deal with a conundrum like that than Lieutenant Uhura. She looks critically at Jim as he stands there, examines the busted translator device, and finally nods at him. "Say something else, Captain."
SMART OHOORA IS SMART.
She blushes a little but, to her credit, remains professional. "So, a lot of adjectival repetition."
"Always," sighs Bones.
"And his syntax is all mixed up."
I CAN HAS MOAR CHEEZBURGER? Jim says helpfully, to illustrate.
"Okay," says Uhura thoughtfully. "You say he's always asking for cheeseburgers. Did you turn up anything in his physical that would account for any increased protein requirements?"
Smart woman, Uhura. Bones loves that about her. "Good point, but no. I did check for that. No changes - no abnormalities at all."
BORED JIM IS BORED
"There's that repetition again. And 'I can has' rather than 'can I have'. 'I has'. Hmm. Give me a little while to cross-reference that, Doctor."
"Please, hurry," Bones implores in a whisper, smiling through gritted teeth, and Uhura smiles sympathetically back. Jim has already scampered away, moving as fluidly as a cat as opposed to his usual idiotic-looking flailing, and Bones has to run to catch up with him.
>^;^<
Jim wears himself out eventually. They're near Bones' quarters, so Bones undresses him and hauls him into bed - it's past 1100 hours anyway - and curls up next to him, yawning. In repose, Jim looks the same as always, peaceful and flushed in sleep. Bones can only hope he'll wake up with his brain the same as always, too.
>^;^<
Bones comes to slowly, groggily half-aware that he's warm and comfortably aroused, pressed against Jim's ass and rocking his hips slowly in a rhythm carried over from sleep.
They do this some mornings, when they can afford to be lazy. Jim always wakes right about now - Bones rolls onto his back and reaches down, stroking himself lightly, waiting for a kiss or a touch or something -
When he opens his eyes, Jim is on all fours, crouched above him, looking, for lack of a better word, saner than he had last night. Thank god for that. Bones smiles. Jim's eyes are intense as they sweep over him, up and down. "Hey," Bones says, throat still rough from sleep. "You look better."
DO WANT says Jim, his voice low and sultry.
Bones' hand stills immediately. "Damn it, Jim," he mumbles, and Jim makes a small noise like a throaty purr and licks a stripe up Bones' stubbly neck. Bones arches and groans despite himself, his hand squeezing. "Wait, Jim. You're still -"
Jim bites his lip, looking mischievous. CEILING JIM IS WATCHING YOU MASTURBATE.
"Ceiling Jim? That some kind of metaphor?"
I CAN HAS ZERO G?
"Right, that's enough." Bones yanks his pants back up and sits up, shoving Jim off him and not being too gentle about it. "Off, Jim. Go away. I'm not having sex with you while you're talking like that."
WE HAS A TRU LUV, Jim protests, looking hurt, but Bones shakes his head. He feels bad, sure. But he also feels absolutely no sexual impulses whatsoever anymore. Not after those all-caps. He's not going to start anything that'll inevitably end up with Jim crying out 'cheezburger!' at orgasm. Bones has spent enough of his adult life being emasculated, thank you very much.
"I know we have a true love, Jim. I'm just not in the mood to fuck you. Go see Uhura and Scotty and make them fix you, damn it, and then I will."
Jim's off like a shot. He doesn't even bother to put a shirt on.
Naturally, just then, they're attacked by Klingons. As if this day could get any better. Bones scrambles out of bed, heart pounding from the terse message Spock has just sent out over the shipwide comm system, and pulls his boots on over his sleep pants, since there's no time to change. He runs toward the door - and promptly runs smack into it.
Emergency lockdown initiated, says the computer coolly.
His ass is on the floor before he realizes what's happened. "Ow! What the hell?" Picking himself up, he waves his hand in front of the door, then tries the manual override. No dice. He's trapped in his room. The ship's been locked down. The only people with the authority and the codes to do that are Jim, Spock, Scotty and himself, and they've never had to before. Someone must have beamed aboard. Klingons roaming the halls.
"Jim," Bones mutters to himself in dismay, because somewhere out there, Jim's roaming the halls, too, unless he was in a turbolift, and it's because Bones all but sent him out there. Shirtless, and possibly slightly deranged. During a red alert.
He can't help wondering if Klingons know what cheeseburgers are.
>^;^<
"Spock? What the hell is going on?"
"The enemy ship has gone to warp, but the Captain has initiated lockdown. I myself am trapped on the bridge. I have attempted to override it, but to no avail. He has, in the past, proven himself skilled at hacking the computer system."
"Is he fucking insane?"
"It is quite probable."
Bones massages his temples. "Did you try contacting him?"
"I did not wish to make the intruders aware of his presence outside the lockdown zone."
"Of course, of course." Bones slumps in his chair. "Idiot. What the hell is he thinking."
>^;^<
1) It is an established fact that tribbles hate Klingons. Upon encountering one, a tribble - normally a small, soft, cuddly, shapeless and featureless ball of fluff which will purr under the touch of any hand - can become quite violent. There have even been reports of tribbles inflicting minor damage, bruises and so on, when they feel threatened or territorial. In one case, infamous among biologists, an adult male Klingon had his index finger, up to the second joint, bitten off entirely when he approached the nest of a tribble and its most recent litter of young. Tribbles do not possess teeth, nor is anyone certain if they even possess mouths.
2) It is a lesser-known fact, due perhaps to the two species never having occasion to meet, that cats hate Klingons as well. A cat, possessing both teeth and claws, is capable of inflicting significantly more damage.
3) The fact that Starfleet Captains despise Klingons is somewhat more well-documented. See: any Starfleet Captain.
4) Starfleet Captains are also, like cats and tribbles, well-known to be extremely territorial. Threaten his ship or his crew, and a Captain will use whatever measures he can to protect them, and whatever weapons he has at his disposal to rid himself of you, be they diplomacy, a phaser, or a convenient bunch of sparking wires ripped out of a power junction during a struggle.
5) James Tiberius Kirk is a Starfleet Captain. He is neither small, soft, shapeless, featureless, nor made of fluff (admittedly, he can be cuddly on occasion). He is also not a cat (though, as Lieutenant Nyota Uhura will discover, the language programmed into his brain is known colloquially as 'LOLCAT' and is spoken as a minor dialect of several species on several different unrelated worlds, defying the logical pattern of interplanetary language spread). He has no claws - his teeth are of little use in hand-to-hand combat. However, what James Kirk does have are speed, strength, intuition, and extensive combat training.
Also, he's got your bat'leth.
Five seconds after Spock comms Bones to inform him that he and Chekov have managed to override whatever Jim did, Bones is running down the hallway. He stops short when he turns a corner, aghast at the sight of four or five Klingon bodies lying prone, almost piled on top of one another and blocking nearly the entire hall. It's another few stunned seconds before he looks up and sees Jim, a bloody scratch making an artistic diagonal slash across his chest, but a look of conquest on his sweaty face.
I IS TEN NINJAS
His voice is triumphant, and he pumps both fists in the air, and Bones doesn't know whether to smack him or kiss him. I COT YOU SOME KLINGONZ Jim adds, BUT I HURTED THEM.
"That's okay," Bones says soothingly, as Security comes rushing up, Ensign Cupcake - uh, Stevens - heading the group. Bones has no doubt as to their safety, now, considering Stevens is practically a Klingon himself.
O HAI IZ LOLRUS
As he and the other redshirts start binding the unconscious Klingons' hands, Stevens pretends to ignore that, though his goateed face has gone a little purple. He'll now undoubtedly be known as the unfortunate guy Captain Kirk has blessed with two stupid nicknames instead of one like - well, like Bones. Damn it.
"We'll let these guys throw 'em in the brig, all right?" Bones holds out his hand. "You just come with me, Jim. Let me see to that cut. You never know what kinds of nasty microbes might be on those blades of theirs."
DO NOT WANT is his answer, when Bones whips out the hypo. He backs away - right into the open, sparking power conduit in the wall. His body jolts, once, violently, eyes wide and electric blue.
"Jim!"
>^;^<
"Bones," Jim murmurs. "W'happen."
"Well, Jim, you've just, once again, managed to survive something ridiculous that should've killed any normal human being. Twice in a row, I might add." Bones, relieved he's finally awoken, checks his vitals. "The lolspeak is gone?"
"Wh - 'lolspeak'?" Jim says thickly, brow furrowing. Bones gives him the surprised eyebrow.
"That's what Uhura found out it was. LOLCAT. Seems to be all outta your system. It must've been the second overload that did it."
"Bones, I have no idea what you're talking about. You sure you didn't get zapped by something?" Jim sits up in bed, and when both Bones and Christine try to force him back down, he waves them off. "I'm fine. Little headache. Klingons?"
"In the brig and pissed that their ship left without 'em. Spock's down there roughing them up."
"Really?"
"Well, giving them that look. Y'know. 'You are but an insignificant worm in the face of my mighty all-encompassing logic'?"
"Oh, I know." Jim wets his lips and gives Bones an absent pat on the shoulder. "I better get down there."
"I don't think so, Jim. You just woke up."
"I need to go interrogate some intruders, Bones. I promise, once I'm done, I'll come back and let you jab me with as many hyposprays as you want." Jim shudders a little, but looks pleading. "Please, Doctor?"
Bones relents far too easily, rolling his eyes. He was never this soft before he met Jim Kirk. "Damn it. One hour."
"Thanks, Bones," Jim says promptly, hopping up and kissing him on the cheek as he moves past. Christine smothers a grin and wanders discreetly into the back room as Jim finishes his kiss up with a little lick up Bones' jaw. Bones looks sharply at him, and all Jim does is smirk.
"Don't make me change my mind."
"I'm not. I'll be quick, I promise." Jim noses, catlike, at Bones' ear. "Later. Remember - long Jim is long. And he loves his Bones."
He's gone before Bones' brain even has time to begin to process that.
There seem to be a lot of people staring at Jim when he strolls into the mess hall, but Jim doesn't mind. He's used to being stared at for one reason or another. "Spock, Uhura, Booones."
"Captain."
"Jim."
"I see your speech is back to normal, Captain."
"Yup. That lol-whatever shit is all gone." Jim turns his chair around and straddles it, leaning his arms on the back, in his customary un-captainly way. Spock looks disapproving, of course, but what can you do. Jim's in a good mood. Give him a break. "Hopefully that means this new trend on board'll wear itself out soon, too."
Someone had stuck an old-fashioned paper printout on the back of his chair on the bridge. A security-cam snapshot of him, spinning gleefully, captioned boldly with the words I HAS A COMMAND.
Funny. He'd left it there, actually, because after that Klingon incursion, everyone could use a little giggle. When the printouts started appearing all over the ship, though - OM NOM NOM, CAN HAZ FINUL FRONTEER?, and, most gratifyingly, LONG KEPTAIN IS LOOOOONG (he has a few suspicions as to the origin of that one) - well, let's just say the joke is wearing out its welcome. For him, anyway. Still seems to be an endless source of hilarity for everyone else on board.
But fads pass eventually, so he isn't going to worry over-much about it. He just smiles. "So," he says, cheerfully. "What's on today's menu?"
"Cheeseburgers," says Uhura, with a commendably straight face. Bones finds his PADD very interesting, suddenly, and Spock takes a sip of water. Jim stares at them, bile rising in his throat. It's like a Pavlovian response.
"Cheese -" He swallows hard. "Excuse me."
Fortunately, there's a bathroom just across the hallway from the mess.
God damn it. He'd actually loved cheeseburgers before this, too. Now they're ruined for him forever.
"Jim?" comes Bones' voice, floating in through the stall door. "You all right?"
"Do not - want," coughs Jim.
"It's okay. We can get them to put Swiss on yours, Jim. I know you don't like American."
Jim's only answer is a gag.
>^;^<
IZ END BAIBAI
ANON LUVZ U
from benebu who ganked it from st_xi_kink may I proudly present to you; JIM CAN HAZ CHEEZBURGER (being conversational in LOLspeak is necessary to understand this crack fic)
Link to benebu's reccing of this fic
There's still smoke rising from the translator device strapped around Jim's head, and Jim's sitting in the midst of it, looking shell-shocked, his hair sticking out every which way. Scotty winces.
"Think I may have made a wee miscalculation there -" He laughs nervously. "Away mission's gonna have to wait, I'm afraid, Captain, unless you can figure out some kind'a sign language you can speak to each other in..."
Jim coughs, and waves the smoke away from his face, and Bones scowls, arms folded, as Scotty removes the device with a pair of very large tongs and drops it into its container for safekeeping and repair. Damn alien devices. Always malfunctioning. "Jim, you all right?"
I...CAN HAS...CHEEZBURGER? Jim says slowly, patting down his hair and looking imploringly up. Bones blinks.
"What?"
IS IT CAN BE CHEEZBURGER TIEM?
"A cheeseburger sounds good," Scotty mutters, rooting in his toolkit, and Jim grins.
"I told you not to skip breakfast," Bones scolds, ignoring the weird grammar for now, because Jim's always turning up hungry at the oddest of times. "But since that mission's apparently scrubbed, I guess we can go grab some lunch. After we go to Sickbay, and only if you're sure you're feeling okay after that."
Jim stands, and slaps him on the back. HUNGREE JIM IZ HUNGREE, he says disturbingly, and heads jauntily out, whistling.
Bones follows, not sure what else to do.
>^;^<
OM NOM NOM. OM NOM NOM NOM NOM.
The whole rest of the mess hall is dead silent as they watch...and listen...to Captain Kirk enjoying his burger. How he can eat and talk at the same time is a mystery to Bones, but Jim's managing it.
Problem is, he's not saying anything coherent.
OM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM
Bones chews his own cheez- cheeseburger slowly, staring. He swallows. He stares some more. Jim's showing no signs of letting up.
OM NOM NOM NOM. OM NOM OM NOM NOM NOM
Slamming a hand suddenly down on the table and making the cutlery rattle - Ensign Young drops her tray in surprise - Bones roars, "Will you cut that out?"
Jim just pops the last bite in his mouth and, disturbingly, licks his chops like a cat, in obvious enjoyment. Bones' mouth drops open.
NAO IZ TIEM FOR CHAIR.
>^;^<
He follows Jim to the bridge, where Jim promptly sits down in the big chair, curls his legs up under him, and smiles beatifically. I IZ KEPTAIN. I HAS A COMMAND.
"Doctor, why is the Captain speaking in that manner?" Spock inquires, calm as usual, and Bones shrugs his shoulders helplessly.
"His translator malfunctioned. He's perfectly healthy otherwise."
"Should he not be in Sickbay?"
"I tried to get him to lie down for a while, but he kept insisting on cheeseburgers. I thought I'd humor him for a while, see what he'd do."
Behind them, Jim spins the chair around. I HAS A CHAIR. WHOA IZ DIZZEE CHAIR. Chekov stifles a snort.
Spock lifts an eyebrow. "The Captain is obviously not fit for command."
"Yeah. Jim, that's enough. Enough, Jim. These games are all fine 'n' dandy but you're coming with me now. C'mon." Bones grabs Jim's arm and yanks him up and over to the turbolift, Jim protesting all the way.
DO NOT WANT
"Captain," Spock says, sliding smoothly into the chair, "do not be concerned. I am quite capable of taking command until you are well again. Should a problem arise, I will be certain to contact you."
NOOOO HE BE STEALIN MAI COMMAND is the last thing anyone on the bridge hears before the doors shut.
Jim seems to have forgotten about Spock's traumatic theft of his command already. He's reclining on a bed in Sickbay, enjoying the attentions of Nurse Chapel, as usual. She's a patient woman, but Bones can tell even her patience is wearing thin, and when she cracks, he's not sure if it'll be violent or simply hysterical.
IM IN UR SICKBAY, says Jim with a wink in Bones' direction, HITTIN ON UR NURSEZ.
"No. You're not. You're in my Sickbay getting a full neurological scan and complete blood workup." Jim tugs at his shirt and Bones ignores him, busy calibrating his tricorder. Jim tugs again.
CRANKEE BONES IZ CRANKEE
"I'm not cranky," snaps Bones, "I'm deeply concerned for your mental health. Just sit still, for god's sake, Jim. This won't take too long."
Jim brightens. LONG JIM IS LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-
"Then," Bones says, raising his voice to be heard over his intonations, "you can go back to your quarters and talk to yourself for the next eight hours if you want. I don't give a damn. Just let me do my job."
-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG. Christine is chewing the inside of her cheek as she draws his blood, her shoulders quivering ever so slightly. Jim looks up at her again and grins toothily. LONG JIM IS LOOOOOOOONG, he reminds her, just to be sure she's heard.
"Childish Jim is fucking childish," Bones mutters under his breath.
CRANKEE BONES IZ CRANKEE retorts Jim. I LUVS MAI BONES.
Bones raises an eyebrow. He loves his Jim too, but hell if Jim's getting any loving from him tonight, in the ridiculous state he's in.
CAN HAS MOAR CHEEZBURGER?
"Nooo," drawls Bones. "Your cholesterol is high enough as it is. You can yammer on about how you're as thin as ever, but that doesn't excuse the fact that you exist on a diet of red meat and sugar."
OM NOM NOM NOM says Jim, reflectively.
Scans come back normal; bloodwork comes back clean. There's nothing wrong with Jim. He's just stuck speaking the wrong language.
And who better to deal with a conundrum like that than Lieutenant Uhura. She looks critically at Jim as he stands there, examines the busted translator device, and finally nods at him. "Say something else, Captain."
SMART OHOORA IS SMART.
She blushes a little but, to her credit, remains professional. "So, a lot of adjectival repetition."
"Always," sighs Bones.
"And his syntax is all mixed up."
I CAN HAS MOAR CHEEZBURGER? Jim says helpfully, to illustrate.
"Okay," says Uhura thoughtfully. "You say he's always asking for cheeseburgers. Did you turn up anything in his physical that would account for any increased protein requirements?"
Smart woman, Uhura. Bones loves that about her. "Good point, but no. I did check for that. No changes - no abnormalities at all."
BORED JIM IS BORED
"There's that repetition again. And 'I can has' rather than 'can I have'. 'I has'. Hmm. Give me a little while to cross-reference that, Doctor."
"Please, hurry," Bones implores in a whisper, smiling through gritted teeth, and Uhura smiles sympathetically back. Jim has already scampered away, moving as fluidly as a cat as opposed to his usual idiotic-looking flailing, and Bones has to run to catch up with him.
>^;^<
Jim wears himself out eventually. They're near Bones' quarters, so Bones undresses him and hauls him into bed - it's past 1100 hours anyway - and curls up next to him, yawning. In repose, Jim looks the same as always, peaceful and flushed in sleep. Bones can only hope he'll wake up with his brain the same as always, too.
>^;^<
Bones comes to slowly, groggily half-aware that he's warm and comfortably aroused, pressed against Jim's ass and rocking his hips slowly in a rhythm carried over from sleep.
They do this some mornings, when they can afford to be lazy. Jim always wakes right about now - Bones rolls onto his back and reaches down, stroking himself lightly, waiting for a kiss or a touch or something -
When he opens his eyes, Jim is on all fours, crouched above him, looking, for lack of a better word, saner than he had last night. Thank god for that. Bones smiles. Jim's eyes are intense as they sweep over him, up and down. "Hey," Bones says, throat still rough from sleep. "You look better."
DO WANT says Jim, his voice low and sultry.
Bones' hand stills immediately. "Damn it, Jim," he mumbles, and Jim makes a small noise like a throaty purr and licks a stripe up Bones' stubbly neck. Bones arches and groans despite himself, his hand squeezing. "Wait, Jim. You're still -"
Jim bites his lip, looking mischievous. CEILING JIM IS WATCHING YOU MASTURBATE.
"Ceiling Jim? That some kind of metaphor?"
I CAN HAS ZERO G?
"Right, that's enough." Bones yanks his pants back up and sits up, shoving Jim off him and not being too gentle about it. "Off, Jim. Go away. I'm not having sex with you while you're talking like that."
WE HAS A TRU LUV, Jim protests, looking hurt, but Bones shakes his head. He feels bad, sure. But he also feels absolutely no sexual impulses whatsoever anymore. Not after those all-caps. He's not going to start anything that'll inevitably end up with Jim crying out 'cheezburger!' at orgasm. Bones has spent enough of his adult life being emasculated, thank you very much.
"I know we have a true love, Jim. I'm just not in the mood to fuck you. Go see Uhura and Scotty and make them fix you, damn it, and then I will."
Jim's off like a shot. He doesn't even bother to put a shirt on.
Naturally, just then, they're attacked by Klingons. As if this day could get any better. Bones scrambles out of bed, heart pounding from the terse message Spock has just sent out over the shipwide comm system, and pulls his boots on over his sleep pants, since there's no time to change. He runs toward the door - and promptly runs smack into it.
Emergency lockdown initiated, says the computer coolly.
His ass is on the floor before he realizes what's happened. "Ow! What the hell?" Picking himself up, he waves his hand in front of the door, then tries the manual override. No dice. He's trapped in his room. The ship's been locked down. The only people with the authority and the codes to do that are Jim, Spock, Scotty and himself, and they've never had to before. Someone must have beamed aboard. Klingons roaming the halls.
"Jim," Bones mutters to himself in dismay, because somewhere out there, Jim's roaming the halls, too, unless he was in a turbolift, and it's because Bones all but sent him out there. Shirtless, and possibly slightly deranged. During a red alert.
He can't help wondering if Klingons know what cheeseburgers are.
>^;^<
"Spock? What the hell is going on?"
"The enemy ship has gone to warp, but the Captain has initiated lockdown. I myself am trapped on the bridge. I have attempted to override it, but to no avail. He has, in the past, proven himself skilled at hacking the computer system."
"Is he fucking insane?"
"It is quite probable."
Bones massages his temples. "Did you try contacting him?"
"I did not wish to make the intruders aware of his presence outside the lockdown zone."
"Of course, of course." Bones slumps in his chair. "Idiot. What the hell is he thinking."
>^;^<
1) It is an established fact that tribbles hate Klingons. Upon encountering one, a tribble - normally a small, soft, cuddly, shapeless and featureless ball of fluff which will purr under the touch of any hand - can become quite violent. There have even been reports of tribbles inflicting minor damage, bruises and so on, when they feel threatened or territorial. In one case, infamous among biologists, an adult male Klingon had his index finger, up to the second joint, bitten off entirely when he approached the nest of a tribble and its most recent litter of young. Tribbles do not possess teeth, nor is anyone certain if they even possess mouths.
2) It is a lesser-known fact, due perhaps to the two species never having occasion to meet, that cats hate Klingons as well. A cat, possessing both teeth and claws, is capable of inflicting significantly more damage.
3) The fact that Starfleet Captains despise Klingons is somewhat more well-documented. See: any Starfleet Captain.
4) Starfleet Captains are also, like cats and tribbles, well-known to be extremely territorial. Threaten his ship or his crew, and a Captain will use whatever measures he can to protect them, and whatever weapons he has at his disposal to rid himself of you, be they diplomacy, a phaser, or a convenient bunch of sparking wires ripped out of a power junction during a struggle.
5) James Tiberius Kirk is a Starfleet Captain. He is neither small, soft, shapeless, featureless, nor made of fluff (admittedly, he can be cuddly on occasion). He is also not a cat (though, as Lieutenant Nyota Uhura will discover, the language programmed into his brain is known colloquially as 'LOLCAT' and is spoken as a minor dialect of several species on several different unrelated worlds, defying the logical pattern of interplanetary language spread). He has no claws - his teeth are of little use in hand-to-hand combat. However, what James Kirk does have are speed, strength, intuition, and extensive combat training.
Also, he's got your bat'leth.
Five seconds after Spock comms Bones to inform him that he and Chekov have managed to override whatever Jim did, Bones is running down the hallway. He stops short when he turns a corner, aghast at the sight of four or five Klingon bodies lying prone, almost piled on top of one another and blocking nearly the entire hall. It's another few stunned seconds before he looks up and sees Jim, a bloody scratch making an artistic diagonal slash across his chest, but a look of conquest on his sweaty face.
I IS TEN NINJAS
His voice is triumphant, and he pumps both fists in the air, and Bones doesn't know whether to smack him or kiss him. I COT YOU SOME KLINGONZ Jim adds, BUT I HURTED THEM.
"That's okay," Bones says soothingly, as Security comes rushing up, Ensign Cupcake - uh, Stevens - heading the group. Bones has no doubt as to their safety, now, considering Stevens is practically a Klingon himself.
O HAI IZ LOLRUS
As he and the other redshirts start binding the unconscious Klingons' hands, Stevens pretends to ignore that, though his goateed face has gone a little purple. He'll now undoubtedly be known as the unfortunate guy Captain Kirk has blessed with two stupid nicknames instead of one like - well, like Bones. Damn it.
"We'll let these guys throw 'em in the brig, all right?" Bones holds out his hand. "You just come with me, Jim. Let me see to that cut. You never know what kinds of nasty microbes might be on those blades of theirs."
DO NOT WANT is his answer, when Bones whips out the hypo. He backs away - right into the open, sparking power conduit in the wall. His body jolts, once, violently, eyes wide and electric blue.
"Jim!"
>^;^<
"Bones," Jim murmurs. "W'happen."
"Well, Jim, you've just, once again, managed to survive something ridiculous that should've killed any normal human being. Twice in a row, I might add." Bones, relieved he's finally awoken, checks his vitals. "The lolspeak is gone?"
"Wh - 'lolspeak'?" Jim says thickly, brow furrowing. Bones gives him the surprised eyebrow.
"That's what Uhura found out it was. LOLCAT. Seems to be all outta your system. It must've been the second overload that did it."
"Bones, I have no idea what you're talking about. You sure you didn't get zapped by something?" Jim sits up in bed, and when both Bones and Christine try to force him back down, he waves them off. "I'm fine. Little headache. Klingons?"
"In the brig and pissed that their ship left without 'em. Spock's down there roughing them up."
"Really?"
"Well, giving them that look. Y'know. 'You are but an insignificant worm in the face of my mighty all-encompassing logic'?"
"Oh, I know." Jim wets his lips and gives Bones an absent pat on the shoulder. "I better get down there."
"I don't think so, Jim. You just woke up."
"I need to go interrogate some intruders, Bones. I promise, once I'm done, I'll come back and let you jab me with as many hyposprays as you want." Jim shudders a little, but looks pleading. "Please, Doctor?"
Bones relents far too easily, rolling his eyes. He was never this soft before he met Jim Kirk. "Damn it. One hour."
"Thanks, Bones," Jim says promptly, hopping up and kissing him on the cheek as he moves past. Christine smothers a grin and wanders discreetly into the back room as Jim finishes his kiss up with a little lick up Bones' jaw. Bones looks sharply at him, and all Jim does is smirk.
"Don't make me change my mind."
"I'm not. I'll be quick, I promise." Jim noses, catlike, at Bones' ear. "Later. Remember - long Jim is long. And he loves his Bones."
He's gone before Bones' brain even has time to begin to process that.
There seem to be a lot of people staring at Jim when he strolls into the mess hall, but Jim doesn't mind. He's used to being stared at for one reason or another. "Spock, Uhura, Booones."
"Captain."
"Jim."
"I see your speech is back to normal, Captain."
"Yup. That lol-whatever shit is all gone." Jim turns his chair around and straddles it, leaning his arms on the back, in his customary un-captainly way. Spock looks disapproving, of course, but what can you do. Jim's in a good mood. Give him a break. "Hopefully that means this new trend on board'll wear itself out soon, too."
Someone had stuck an old-fashioned paper printout on the back of his chair on the bridge. A security-cam snapshot of him, spinning gleefully, captioned boldly with the words I HAS A COMMAND.
Funny. He'd left it there, actually, because after that Klingon incursion, everyone could use a little giggle. When the printouts started appearing all over the ship, though - OM NOM NOM, CAN HAZ FINUL FRONTEER?, and, most gratifyingly, LONG KEPTAIN IS LOOOOONG (he has a few suspicions as to the origin of that one) - well, let's just say the joke is wearing out its welcome. For him, anyway. Still seems to be an endless source of hilarity for everyone else on board.
But fads pass eventually, so he isn't going to worry over-much about it. He just smiles. "So," he says, cheerfully. "What's on today's menu?"
"Cheeseburgers," says Uhura, with a commendably straight face. Bones finds his PADD very interesting, suddenly, and Spock takes a sip of water. Jim stares at them, bile rising in his throat. It's like a Pavlovian response.
"Cheese -" He swallows hard. "Excuse me."
Fortunately, there's a bathroom just across the hallway from the mess.
God damn it. He'd actually loved cheeseburgers before this, too. Now they're ruined for him forever.
"Jim?" comes Bones' voice, floating in through the stall door. "You all right?"
"Do not - want," coughs Jim.
"It's okay. We can get them to put Swiss on yours, Jim. I know you don't like American."
Jim's only answer is a gag.
>^;^<
IZ END BAIBAI
ANON LUVZ U