Fic: The adventures of Captain Tightpants and the Grumpy Warrior
Title: The adventures of Captain Tightpants and the Grumpy Warrior
Word Count: 601
Rating: pg-13
Pairings, Characters: Kirk/McCoy (ish)
Disclaimer: not mine, dammit!
Summary: The things a Starfleet officer has to do to appease the locals...
A/N: Written as comment fic for the Daily Captain and Daily Doctor entry over on
jim_and_bones. The pictures posted were from the movies “Bottleshock” and “Lord of the Rings”. My brain went in an interesting direction. :p
“Who’s bright idea was this?” Bones grumbled as he adjusted the armour on his shoulders. He quietly cursed the Federation for sending them to Kálan Gái av. Although, Bones would love to lay this piece of idiocy at James T. Kirk’s feet, but it was more the Federation and their desire to rebuild and mend all fences in the wake of Nero.
So, this meant that their officers were now in the castle of the local Lord. A god damn castle! And about to partake of a feast. In order to please the locals they were invited, in such a way that the invite sounded remarkably like an order, to dress as the locals do at this feast. When the word costumes was mentioned, Jim’s eye’s lit up and Bones had to literally sit on his hands to stop him leaning forward and smacking Jim upside the head.
They didn’t get to choose their costumes, they were directed to a small room each and inside was a costume awaiting them. The Kálan Gái aver’s stayed to initially assist but then, once they were almost finished, they were directed to wait and that someone would come and collect them to take to the feast.
So here Bones was, looking in the polished mirror at his reflection, and occasionally tugging on the blond wig that was firmly affixed to his head. They had also rubbed cream on his face that had his beard growing in spite of his beard suppressor. He really had to resist hard to not storm off and find Jim at that moment, but they did allow him to scan the cream before they applied it.
The wooden door banged open and Bones jumped before turning to look in the doorway’s direction.
“God dammit, Jim! What the hell is that get up?” Bones declared as he looked his captain over.
Bones decided he wasn’t going to complain about his own wig. Long hair was not a good look on Jim, although the man was preening. There seemed to be nothing that could make Jim think he looked less than sensational.
He was waving two old style wine bottles in his hands.
“It’s the Seventies, Man!” Jim declared as he swaggered over towards him. “How’s it going Eomer?”
“What?” Bones asked in response.
Jim shook his head as he looked him up and down, “Tolkein. Rider of Rohan. Seriously, dude, we need to make you widen your reading options. C’mon let’s go get ‘feasted’!”
Bones snorted as he gave Jim a returning perusal. From the tight, tight blue jeans to the pale cream check shirt and the white t-shirt peeping between the open collar.
“Whatever, Captain Tightpants,” Bones returned with a glare as Jim led the way out the door.
“Hey! My ass looks good in these,” Jim returned as he stopped and waggled the ass towards Bones.
“I might be wearing armour, but at least I won’t have chafing later. And no, I won’t give you a cream for it,” Bones pointed his finger at Jim to match the glare on his face.
Jim had tucked one bottle under his arm and with his free one reached forward quickly and smacked Bones on the ass before taking off down the hallway.
“Hey Bones! You can be Lord of my Ring anytime,” he yelled.
Bones growled as he stalked after Jim.
“Just you wait, Jim! I’ve got a sword here,” Bones declared. This was going to be a very trying evening.
Diplomacy be damned. He was a warrior, not a diplomat right at that moment.
Because LJ is still being stupid, this has been crossposted over from my Dreamwidth account. You can log into OpenID to comment at the original entry at http://noo.dreamwidth.org/84260.html, where there are
. If you see a locked post here, feel free to friend me over on Dreamwidth.
Word Count: 601
Rating: pg-13
Pairings, Characters: Kirk/McCoy (ish)
Disclaimer: not mine, dammit!
Summary: The things a Starfleet officer has to do to appease the locals...
A/N: Written as comment fic for the Daily Captain and Daily Doctor entry over on
jim_and_bones. The pictures posted were from the movies “Bottleshock” and “Lord of the Rings”. My brain went in an interesting direction. :p
“Who’s bright idea was this?” Bones grumbled as he adjusted the armour on his shoulders. He quietly cursed the Federation for sending them to Kálan Gái av. Although, Bones would love to lay this piece of idiocy at James T. Kirk’s feet, but it was more the Federation and their desire to rebuild and mend all fences in the wake of Nero.
So, this meant that their officers were now in the castle of the local Lord. A god damn castle! And about to partake of a feast. In order to please the locals they were invited, in such a way that the invite sounded remarkably like an order, to dress as the locals do at this feast. When the word costumes was mentioned, Jim’s eye’s lit up and Bones had to literally sit on his hands to stop him leaning forward and smacking Jim upside the head.
They didn’t get to choose their costumes, they were directed to a small room each and inside was a costume awaiting them. The Kálan Gái aver’s stayed to initially assist but then, once they were almost finished, they were directed to wait and that someone would come and collect them to take to the feast.
So here Bones was, looking in the polished mirror at his reflection, and occasionally tugging on the blond wig that was firmly affixed to his head. They had also rubbed cream on his face that had his beard growing in spite of his beard suppressor. He really had to resist hard to not storm off and find Jim at that moment, but they did allow him to scan the cream before they applied it.
The wooden door banged open and Bones jumped before turning to look in the doorway’s direction.
“God dammit, Jim! What the hell is that get up?” Bones declared as he looked his captain over.
Bones decided he wasn’t going to complain about his own wig. Long hair was not a good look on Jim, although the man was preening. There seemed to be nothing that could make Jim think he looked less than sensational.
He was waving two old style wine bottles in his hands.
“It’s the Seventies, Man!” Jim declared as he swaggered over towards him. “How’s it going Eomer?”
“What?” Bones asked in response.
Jim shook his head as he looked him up and down, “Tolkein. Rider of Rohan. Seriously, dude, we need to make you widen your reading options. C’mon let’s go get ‘feasted’!”
Bones snorted as he gave Jim a returning perusal. From the tight, tight blue jeans to the pale cream check shirt and the white t-shirt peeping between the open collar.
“Whatever, Captain Tightpants,” Bones returned with a glare as Jim led the way out the door.
“Hey! My ass looks good in these,” Jim returned as he stopped and waggled the ass towards Bones.
“I might be wearing armour, but at least I won’t have chafing later. And no, I won’t give you a cream for it,” Bones pointed his finger at Jim to match the glare on his face.
Jim had tucked one bottle under his arm and with his free one reached forward quickly and smacked Bones on the ass before taking off down the hallway.
“Hey Bones! You can be Lord of my Ring anytime,” he yelled.
Bones growled as he stalked after Jim.
“Just you wait, Jim! I’ve got a sword here,” Bones declared. This was going to be a very trying evening.
Diplomacy be damned. He was a warrior, not a diplomat right at that moment.
Because LJ is still being stupid, this has been crossposted over from my Dreamwidth account. You can log into OpenID to comment at the original entry at http://noo.dreamwidth.org/84260.html, where there are
. If you see a locked post here, feel free to friend me over on Dreamwidth.