Two ancient ST ficlets, one new
This is from the sentences meme, where you give me a pairing and I write a sentence in each category (Fluff, Angst, UST, etc.) for them. This takes place in Mirror!verse (for the AU category.) It's more than a sentence, obviously, and it doesn't have a pairing. I am excellent at following directions, doncha know.
McCoy and Puri, 305 words, PG for language
"McCoy, report to the Deck 12 Discipline room," Puri says, and damn if McCoy don't go all aprickle trying to figure out what he did wrong and if he can talk his way out of it. Puri's got a fondness for willful disobedience and'll let his staff run wild if it don't cause him any problems personally. God help the incompetents, though.
Puri catches sight of his face and laughs, a fulsome horsey sound. "You're in the clear today, you sneaky bastard," he says, handing McCoy a tricorder by way of shoving it into his chest. "You get to stay outside the booth and verify that it's working."
"Ain't we got technicians for that?" McCoy says, 'cause they do. Twisted little grease monkeys who stop by Medbay every few weeks to get nervous system schematics. They're tweaking the fine control, they say, 'cause the Chief Engineer wants them to play the screams of the victims like bagpipes. "Aye, the wailing takes me back," Mr. Scott says with a misty smile. Everyone else nods and pretends he passed the psych eval.
Puri is quickstepping away from him, twirling a hypospray between his fingers like it's a parade baton. "Oh, the booth is functional," Puri answers over his shoulder. "Your job is to make sure this particular subject can feel it."
McCoy sighs and open a drawer to get a copy of the Expanded Species Database chip. "God have mercy on what poor race they're discovered now," he mutters.
"God helps them who help themselves!" Puri yells from the other end of Medbay, just in case his staff have forgotten about his hearing implants. Just in case McCoy has forgotten that Puri's a doctor because he likes to play God, and not the New Testament kind, neither.
"Aye, sir," he says, and gets himself to Deck 12.
This next one was also part of a meme; specifically, one where you name a character and I give three facts about them. Ruby asked for Winona and this was the first fact. Refers to events related in the Ramble!fic wherein Captain Pike turns into a woman and Jim is ok with that.
Winona, 194 words, rated PG.
Winona Kirk loves wearing the miniskirt uniform, but doesn't often get a chance to, seeing as she crawls around Jeffries tubes a lot and Engineering is not a good place for people to be distracted. So she's stuck wearing pants most of the time, which is ok, but what really bugs her is that when she gets to go to fancy shindigs on alien planets, she has to wear something that won't hamper her in a firefight or quick escape, since those occur with depressing regularity.
So when her ship was orbiting Earth for repairs at the same time that Starfleet was throwing one of its morale-raising parties, Winona was ecstatic and quickly procured the most impractical gown she could find. It had a dozen petticoats, layer upon layer of jewel-colored silk, and a veritable tapestry of lace and embroidery. The neckline was just shy of scandalous and the sleek paneled mid-section showed off her trim waist. Winona was giddy with anticipation and spent hours getting all the engine grease out from under her nails. Everything was going to be perfect.
And then, the morning of the ball, she woke up as a man.
Thrice has no problem getting her homework done if adequately bribed, apparently. She asked for a sequel to the ficlet where Uhura plays with Spock's hair.
Spock/Uhura, 356 words, rated G
Spock continues to perform his duties as well as he is able. He cannot serve shifts on the bridge, of course; Kirk takes his place assisting Pike on Alpha and, most days, continues into Beta. Gamma has been doled out to senior officers or other promising crewmen. Nyota is given the conn while maintenance is being done on the communications console, and though she would prefer to be the one down there teasing the circuity with delicate tools, she enjoys bossing about her Alpha-shift counterpart in languages no-one else knows. It is possible, though no-one on the bridge will dare tell, that she mimics some of Kirk's more infamous mannerisms.
She indulges herself, when half the crew is on break, with a call to Spock's quarters. This is permitted, of course; Spock communicates quite often with the bridge, transmitting the reports he has been composing in his quarters, and offering consultations on the readings being sent to his PADD.
"Bridge to Spock," she says in the professional tone they have perfected over the past months.
It is a fraction too long before he answers, "Spock here," and she decides he must have needed to brush the hair out of his eyes. The rubber band he uses to restrain it is suitable only for the most part. There are some locks of hair, originating on the upper borders of his brow, which work their way out and fall across his face.
Nyota finds those curls endearing: tender little things, poking from the bottom of his ears or curving underneath his jaw. Spock has informed her that he is distracted by the tickling sensation, and finds the obstruction of his vision most vexing. He does not say, but Nyota understands, that it bothers him greatly that he cannot control these emotional responses.
He has even begun to increase the volume of his voice when it is unnecessary.
Nyota runs her forefinger around the comm button. She is placing undue significance on a simple disc of plasteel, but it is tangible and it is the only visible portion of the mechanism, spidery and electric, that connects her to Spock.
McCoy and Puri, 305 words, PG for language
"McCoy, report to the Deck 12 Discipline room," Puri says, and damn if McCoy don't go all aprickle trying to figure out what he did wrong and if he can talk his way out of it. Puri's got a fondness for willful disobedience and'll let his staff run wild if it don't cause him any problems personally. God help the incompetents, though.
Puri catches sight of his face and laughs, a fulsome horsey sound. "You're in the clear today, you sneaky bastard," he says, handing McCoy a tricorder by way of shoving it into his chest. "You get to stay outside the booth and verify that it's working."
"Ain't we got technicians for that?" McCoy says, 'cause they do. Twisted little grease monkeys who stop by Medbay every few weeks to get nervous system schematics. They're tweaking the fine control, they say, 'cause the Chief Engineer wants them to play the screams of the victims like bagpipes. "Aye, the wailing takes me back," Mr. Scott says with a misty smile. Everyone else nods and pretends he passed the psych eval.
Puri is quickstepping away from him, twirling a hypospray between his fingers like it's a parade baton. "Oh, the booth is functional," Puri answers over his shoulder. "Your job is to make sure this particular subject can feel it."
McCoy sighs and open a drawer to get a copy of the Expanded Species Database chip. "God have mercy on what poor race they're discovered now," he mutters.
"God helps them who help themselves!" Puri yells from the other end of Medbay, just in case his staff have forgotten about his hearing implants. Just in case McCoy has forgotten that Puri's a doctor because he likes to play God, and not the New Testament kind, neither.
"Aye, sir," he says, and gets himself to Deck 12.
This next one was also part of a meme; specifically, one where you name a character and I give three facts about them. Ruby asked for Winona and this was the first fact. Refers to events related in the Ramble!fic wherein Captain Pike turns into a woman and Jim is ok with that.
Winona, 194 words, rated PG.
Winona Kirk loves wearing the miniskirt uniform, but doesn't often get a chance to, seeing as she crawls around Jeffries tubes a lot and Engineering is not a good place for people to be distracted. So she's stuck wearing pants most of the time, which is ok, but what really bugs her is that when she gets to go to fancy shindigs on alien planets, she has to wear something that won't hamper her in a firefight or quick escape, since those occur with depressing regularity.
So when her ship was orbiting Earth for repairs at the same time that Starfleet was throwing one of its morale-raising parties, Winona was ecstatic and quickly procured the most impractical gown she could find. It had a dozen petticoats, layer upon layer of jewel-colored silk, and a veritable tapestry of lace and embroidery. The neckline was just shy of scandalous and the sleek paneled mid-section showed off her trim waist. Winona was giddy with anticipation and spent hours getting all the engine grease out from under her nails. Everything was going to be perfect.
And then, the morning of the ball, she woke up as a man.
Thrice has no problem getting her homework done if adequately bribed, apparently. She asked for a sequel to the ficlet where Uhura plays with Spock's hair.
Spock/Uhura, 356 words, rated G
Spock continues to perform his duties as well as he is able. He cannot serve shifts on the bridge, of course; Kirk takes his place assisting Pike on Alpha and, most days, continues into Beta. Gamma has been doled out to senior officers or other promising crewmen. Nyota is given the conn while maintenance is being done on the communications console, and though she would prefer to be the one down there teasing the circuity with delicate tools, she enjoys bossing about her Alpha-shift counterpart in languages no-one else knows. It is possible, though no-one on the bridge will dare tell, that she mimics some of Kirk's more infamous mannerisms.
She indulges herself, when half the crew is on break, with a call to Spock's quarters. This is permitted, of course; Spock communicates quite often with the bridge, transmitting the reports he has been composing in his quarters, and offering consultations on the readings being sent to his PADD.
"Bridge to Spock," she says in the professional tone they have perfected over the past months.
It is a fraction too long before he answers, "Spock here," and she decides he must have needed to brush the hair out of his eyes. The rubber band he uses to restrain it is suitable only for the most part. There are some locks of hair, originating on the upper borders of his brow, which work their way out and fall across his face.
Nyota finds those curls endearing: tender little things, poking from the bottom of his ears or curving underneath his jaw. Spock has informed her that he is distracted by the tickling sensation, and finds the obstruction of his vision most vexing. He does not say, but Nyota understands, that it bothers him greatly that he cannot control these emotional responses.
He has even begun to increase the volume of his voice when it is unnecessary.
Nyota runs her forefinger around the comm button. She is placing undue significance on a simple disc of plasteel, but it is tangible and it is the only visible portion of the mechanism, spidery and electric, that connects her to Spock.