[ficlet] paved with good intentions
Title: paved with good intentions
Pairing: bridge crew gen
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, crack, gen
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: advent calendar day 14, for mandibulars. the enterprise's first christmas, or: four times a member of the bridge crew caused a ship-wide debacle whilst helping with decorations and the one time they actually succeeded. 873 words.
1. Spock's first act as head of the decorating committee-in retrospect, appointing him probably wasn't Jim's greatest idea in the world-is to put every science lab under his purview (which is all of them) to work designing baubles. Normally, this wouldn't bother anyone, but perhaps Jim had overstressed that celebrating an arbitrary secularized version of a pagan holiday might provide some level of comfort for displaced cadets during their first year out in deep space, because any and all actual research being done in the science department immediately grinds to a screeching halt. All they're left with when Starfleet checks in the next week is a bunch of gaudy Christmas ornaments that ominously resemble Tribbles.
"Alright," Jim says, stomping down to Spock's personal lab on Deck 12, Pike's amused lecturing still ringing in his ears. "You've made your point. I'll make someone else deal with the decorations, okay? Get your people back to work."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Captain," Spock says with a Grinch-y air of passive aggression. "But if you insist."
2. It turns out Sulu's idea of suitable Christmas decorations for a starship involves increasingly absurd plant hybrids and caroling suits of armor clunking around with very real, very lethal weapons.
"This isn't Harry Potter," Jim yells, when he narrowly avoids being decapitated for the third time in a day, only to be buried under a mound of sentient mistletoe.
"Oh, excellent," Sulu says, rubbing his hands together. "Now you have to kiss the armor! Try not to get yourself killed."
3. It isn't Scotty's fault that the enormous Christmas tree Sulu's been cultivating in the arboretum catches on fire-except that it is, because for reasons beyond comprehension he'd been operating a blowtorch inside the botanic gardens when the flames had reached the conifer. The rest was just physics.
"Someone complained about a particularly malignant beetle infestation, Captain," Scotty snaps later, face covered with soot, half the arboretum in ruins behind him. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"You don't do things by halves do you, Scotty?" Jim asks, rubbing at his temples. "Did the word 'insecticide' never come to mind?"
4. Chekov, in a misguided attempt to be helpful, ends up flooding all the lower decks with borscht. They spend the entire week before Christmas at Starbase 6 flushing soup out of the ship's innards, Chekov adamantly insisting that it hadn't been his fault, but rather something wrong with the Enterprise supercomputer's capacity to do simple math.
It's a testament to Chekov's idea of simple math and Jim's utter disinterest in pursuing this line of conversation that he doesn't even argue.
5. Bones finally steps in on Christmas Eve, after Jim inhales the last of Scotty's stash of contraband alcohol and almost topples to his death trying to string lights over the helm.
"You're an idiot," Bones informs him when they're on firm ground again. He steers Jim into the ship's bowels, which still smell faintly of beets. Jim wrinkles his nose. "Listen," he continues, "half of these people don't even celebrate Christmas. You're better off just giving them a holiday-we haven't had scheduled shore leave all year. You'll be happy, we'll be happy, everyone will be happy."
"Bones," Jim croaks, "you're magical."
"No, just competent," Bones snaps, and levers him through the entrance of his own quarters.
"I should take offense, right?" he says, squinting.
"Go to bed," Bones says, half-amused and half-weary, stepping away after Jim flops onto the bed. The door slides shut behind him.
The ship's deserted the next day; everyone's off frolicking on Starbase 6, no doubt, while Jim nurses the remains of a staggering headache. When he steps onto the bridge, Uhura's spinning in her chair with a PADD in hand, eyebrows raised at his stagger.
Sulu and Chekov are at the peripheral navigation panels, running diagnostics with Scotty. "You guys have the next two days off, you know," Jim remarks, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Spock materializes out of nowhere with a hypospray. "Doctor McCoy requested that I present this to you, on the off chance that you chose to wake up and make your way here."
"Thoughtful of him," Jim says, and winces as he injects himself. "None of you need to be on duty, by the way. In case you didn't hear me the first time."
Sulu exchanges a significant look with Uhura that Jim's still too hung-over to parse, before turning back to his slowly rotating screen. "We know."
"We would rather be here," Chekov chirps earnestly, rocking back on his heels. "Plus, we have been working on something."
Scotty presses a button on his PADD and holographic lights spring out from every screen on the bridge to bathe it-and the rest of the ship, from what he can see out the window-in ornamental light. "Our apology for the, shall we say-previous mishaps?"
"Quaint," says Jim, cocking his head to the side and squinting at the big fluorescent banner that declares KIRK IS A JERK in neon green above the glass.
"Oh, sorry," Uhura says, an unrepentant grin on her face as Sulu hastily switches it to HAPPY SHORE LEAVE. "That was just me testing it out earlier."
fin
A/N: EURUUUGHHH SRY MANDY THIS IS SO DUMB i'm the worst
Pairing: bridge crew gen
Rating: pg13
Genre: slice-of-life, crack, gen
Warnings: swearing
Author: gdgdbaby
Notes: advent calendar day 14, for mandibulars. the enterprise's first christmas, or: four times a member of the bridge crew caused a ship-wide debacle whilst helping with decorations and the one time they actually succeeded. 873 words.
1. Spock's first act as head of the decorating committee-in retrospect, appointing him probably wasn't Jim's greatest idea in the world-is to put every science lab under his purview (which is all of them) to work designing baubles. Normally, this wouldn't bother anyone, but perhaps Jim had overstressed that celebrating an arbitrary secularized version of a pagan holiday might provide some level of comfort for displaced cadets during their first year out in deep space, because any and all actual research being done in the science department immediately grinds to a screeching halt. All they're left with when Starfleet checks in the next week is a bunch of gaudy Christmas ornaments that ominously resemble Tribbles.
"Alright," Jim says, stomping down to Spock's personal lab on Deck 12, Pike's amused lecturing still ringing in his ears. "You've made your point. I'll make someone else deal with the decorations, okay? Get your people back to work."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Captain," Spock says with a Grinch-y air of passive aggression. "But if you insist."
2. It turns out Sulu's idea of suitable Christmas decorations for a starship involves increasingly absurd plant hybrids and caroling suits of armor clunking around with very real, very lethal weapons.
"This isn't Harry Potter," Jim yells, when he narrowly avoids being decapitated for the third time in a day, only to be buried under a mound of sentient mistletoe.
"Oh, excellent," Sulu says, rubbing his hands together. "Now you have to kiss the armor! Try not to get yourself killed."
3. It isn't Scotty's fault that the enormous Christmas tree Sulu's been cultivating in the arboretum catches on fire-except that it is, because for reasons beyond comprehension he'd been operating a blowtorch inside the botanic gardens when the flames had reached the conifer. The rest was just physics.
"Someone complained about a particularly malignant beetle infestation, Captain," Scotty snaps later, face covered with soot, half the arboretum in ruins behind him. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"You don't do things by halves do you, Scotty?" Jim asks, rubbing at his temples. "Did the word 'insecticide' never come to mind?"
4. Chekov, in a misguided attempt to be helpful, ends up flooding all the lower decks with borscht. They spend the entire week before Christmas at Starbase 6 flushing soup out of the ship's innards, Chekov adamantly insisting that it hadn't been his fault, but rather something wrong with the Enterprise supercomputer's capacity to do simple math.
It's a testament to Chekov's idea of simple math and Jim's utter disinterest in pursuing this line of conversation that he doesn't even argue.
5. Bones finally steps in on Christmas Eve, after Jim inhales the last of Scotty's stash of contraband alcohol and almost topples to his death trying to string lights over the helm.
"You're an idiot," Bones informs him when they're on firm ground again. He steers Jim into the ship's bowels, which still smell faintly of beets. Jim wrinkles his nose. "Listen," he continues, "half of these people don't even celebrate Christmas. You're better off just giving them a holiday-we haven't had scheduled shore leave all year. You'll be happy, we'll be happy, everyone will be happy."
"Bones," Jim croaks, "you're magical."
"No, just competent," Bones snaps, and levers him through the entrance of his own quarters.
"I should take offense, right?" he says, squinting.
"Go to bed," Bones says, half-amused and half-weary, stepping away after Jim flops onto the bed. The door slides shut behind him.
The ship's deserted the next day; everyone's off frolicking on Starbase 6, no doubt, while Jim nurses the remains of a staggering headache. When he steps onto the bridge, Uhura's spinning in her chair with a PADD in hand, eyebrows raised at his stagger.
Sulu and Chekov are at the peripheral navigation panels, running diagnostics with Scotty. "You guys have the next two days off, you know," Jim remarks, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Spock materializes out of nowhere with a hypospray. "Doctor McCoy requested that I present this to you, on the off chance that you chose to wake up and make your way here."
"Thoughtful of him," Jim says, and winces as he injects himself. "None of you need to be on duty, by the way. In case you didn't hear me the first time."
Sulu exchanges a significant look with Uhura that Jim's still too hung-over to parse, before turning back to his slowly rotating screen. "We know."
"We would rather be here," Chekov chirps earnestly, rocking back on his heels. "Plus, we have been working on something."
Scotty presses a button on his PADD and holographic lights spring out from every screen on the bridge to bathe it-and the rest of the ship, from what he can see out the window-in ornamental light. "Our apology for the, shall we say-previous mishaps?"
"Quaint," says Jim, cocking his head to the side and squinting at the big fluorescent banner that declares KIRK IS A JERK in neon green above the glass.
"Oh, sorry," Uhura says, an unrepentant grin on her face as Sulu hastily switches it to HAPPY SHORE LEAVE. "That was just me testing it out earlier."
fin
A/N: EURUUUGHHH SRY MANDY THIS IS SO DUMB i'm the worst