More Duck Trek, again PG at worst.
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"You're sulking," McCoy said, helping Jim ease his uniform shirts over his head.
"Am not," said Kirk, doing something that definitely counted as a pout.
"Jim, they were Klingons. You can't expect to win in hand to hand combat against two Klingons! You're lucky to come out of it alive."
McCoy turned away to pour a dollop of pine scented bath foam into the large, steaming tub. Kirk took the opportunity to make a rude gesture behind his back.
"A hot bath will help to relax your muscles and send you to sleep," said McCoy in hs best "I'm a doctor and I'm always right" voice.
"Now, will you need help to get out of the tub?"
He ducked as a bottle of shampoo was thrown in the general direction of his head.
"Alright then," he said, without missing a beat. "Good night, Jim."
Kirk sunk into the water until only his eyes could be seen. Somewhere near his feet the rubber duck bobbed up and down, so he flicked it upwards and it came to rest on his chest.
"It was embarrassing," he confided to the duck. "I just know that Cupcake caught it on video. It's going to surface at every Christmas party from here to the end of time."
He looked gloomily at the duck. "I was just doing my bit for inter-species cooperation!" he wailed. "How was I suposed to know that Klingon grannies take Bingo that seriously! It's not my fault I got a full house and they didn't."
He squeezed the duck, and it let out a mournful squeak.
"Thanks," he said. "It's nice to have someone to talk to that gets me."
***
"You're a High Priest?"
"Yup."
"Of the Duck People?"
"They prefer the Anatidaens," said Kirk, sharply.
McCoy still looked bewildered, although the sight of his best friend in ceremonial robes including duck-billed head-dress was enough to confuse the most intelligent of people.
"Jim," McCoy said slowly. "Why are you the High Priest of the Duck People?"
"Anatidaens," corrected Kirk, and reached under his robe and rummaged about.
"Good God man, I know you like to brag, but...," McCoy was cut off by Kirk proudly whipping out the plastic duck that Joanna had given him months ago.
"Tah-dah!" he said, waving the duck around. Somehow, he'd put a little head-dress on the duck. It looked almost regal, somehow.
McCoy stood and stared, completely lost for words. Thankfully, Chapel took over.
"So you were at the negotiation table," she prompted helpfully.
"Yes, and we finished the treaty discussions and everyone was happy and smiling, and we were having cake and taking pictures, when Spock made a comment about the decoration of the treaty hall. Ducks, everywhere. Painted ones, carved ones, gold ones, it was all just ducks, ducks, ducks."
"So you decided to show them your duck?" Chapel asked.
"I wanted a picture of it with them, for Jo," he explained. "But when I got the duck out, they started yelling about only the most holy and righteous being allowed to handle the image of their god. So, long story short, to save the negotiations, they made me an Honourary High Priest."
He beamed at them, absolutely delighted. He handed the camera over to Chapel.
"Here, Chapel, take our picture."
Against his will and his better judgement, McCoy posed for a picture with his daughter's rubber duck and the brand new (Honourary) High Priest of the Anatidaens, who skipped merrily out of sickbay to brag to Uhura about being a reincarnation of the Divine Duck.
"The weird thing is," said Chapel thoughtfully, "is that if you swap every "duck" in that explanation for "dick", that's exactly what happened last week on Phallus 4."
"Jo's never going to see pictures of that," said McCoy firmly, and stamped off into his office.
Chapel shrugged, and went back to work. The pictures she'd managed to lift from the sealed mission report were far too good for sharing, anyway.