Title: Star Trekkin’
Fandom: In Plain Sight
Author:
evil_little_dog Characters: Mary Shannon, Marshall Mann
Words: 350+
Rating: Teen (language)
Summary: Marshall and Mary go to a new restaurant.
Warnings: Mary’s mouth?
Disclaimer: USA, et al, own this series, not me.
mary_marshall prompt: “Don’t even mention the Tardis”, fork.
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“I swear, this restaurant is bigger on the inside than on the outside!” Mary exclaimed, then pointed at Marshall before he got his mouth open. “Don’t even mention that stupid Tardis.”
“I was just going to say,” Marshall said.
Mary fixed him with a glare. “Don’t.”
The corner of his mouth quirking, Marshall sat at the table they’d been directed to, picking up a menu.
Mary sneered at her partner, refusing rising to the bait. If she encouraged it, their lunch would be taken up with doofus science fiction references, as if she cared about any alien doctor or chest bursters or monkeys in suits made to look like robot dogs. And how bad was it that she knew all that crap because of Marshall going on and on all the time with his stupid geek trivia?
“Oh, look,” Marshall said.
The tone of his voice alone should’ve warned her, but Mary was still a sucker. “What?”
“Deep-fried tribbles are in the appetizers.”
Narrowing her eyes, Mary snatched the menu out of his hand, peering at the picture. Damn it, he was right. It looked like a deep-fried blob of, well, those Star Trek fuzzballs. She skimmed the actual titles of the meals. “What the hell?”
Marshall’s smirk deepened. “A new restaurant to appeal to the geeks of Albuquerque. Didn’t you notice the name? Ten Forward? The name of the bar in the series, Star Trek: The Next Generation? The uniforms, inspired by the various Trek series?”
With growing horror, Mary realized he was right. Damn him. Damn her being oblivious. “I’m not a geek, Marshall!”
“Signs say otherwise,” Marshall told her gleefully, holding up his cell phone and snapping a picture of her before she could protest. “There, that’ll go right to Stan.”
Mary waved down a waitress. “Give me a Warp Core Breach,” she said and glared at Marshall’s grinning face. “And when we get back to the office, I get half of whatever you and Stan bet on me. That’s right, you’ll have to fork it over.” As his expression morphed into a pout, Mary said, “You didn’t think I wouldn’t figure it out, did you? C’mon, Marshall. I’m smarter than that. So just order your Pangalactic Gargle Blaster, and let’s warp on out of here.”
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