The Third Adventure of Sock and Underoosa: Chapter 1
Title: Another Time They Really Weren't - Quite, Chapter One
Fandom: Star Trek: Reboot
Characters: McCoy, Kirk, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, Spock, Scott
A/N: This is the first chapter of the third of the four stories.
Warnings: pure crack, oddest premise yet;
( Read Story One, Chap. 1 )
( Read Story One, Chap. 2 )
( Read Story One, Chap. 3 )
( Read Story Two, Chap. 1 )
( Read Story Two, Chap. 2 )
( Read Story Two, Chap. 3 )
“Bones! You won’t believe happened last night!”
The door hadn’t even closed behind him and the boy was already shouting. Leonard McCoy stifled a groan, but didn’t bother looking up from his desk and the report he was revising. He was off-duty - sort of. Ship’s surgeon, just like the captain, was never off-duty. But he was in his own quarters, already in his pajamas and Jim Kirk hadn’t bothered to chime before he’d come bursting in. That was close enough for Bones.
He heard Jim flop down on the narrow fabric-covered pew that passed for a sofa on the damned flying death-trap they were stuck on for the next three years, and tried to keep his sigh as close to inaudible as possible. If the captain was making himself comfortable, nothing short of a red alert would get rid of him in under an hour. McCoy knew his night was shot, but he wasn’t gonna give in easily.
“You can pretend to ignore me all you want,” came the voice from across the room, “but I know that you know that you want to hear it. And you know that I know that you know.”
Abandoning the report, Bones dropped his head into his hands. There was no winning against the kid.
“What?” he barked, still not looking over to the pew.
“‘What… sir,’“ Kirk corrected.
“Blast it, Jim!” McCoy spun around from the desk to find his best friend for the last five years grinning triumphantly.
While the older man worked on lowering his blood pressure and forcing himself not to say something stupid, the captain stretched languidly.
_____
A lot of people complained about the time it took to become accustomed to sleeping on a starship. The constant ambient noise, so different from that of the Earth; the artificial distinction between ship’s day and ship’s night; the constant sense of forward progression (or so a very few claimed) - there were as many excuses, Leonard McCoy suspected - as there were crew members. Some people had lists several items long. He knew, because everyone liked to complain about it to the chief medical officer if they got the chance.
It was all bullshit, of course. Mostly, anyway. All the ships in the fleet had been designed to either eliminate, or at the very least greatly diminish, the very effects of long-term travel in a giant tin-can that all these folks wasted Bones’s time whining about.
The captain was a different kettle of fish altogether. Jim Kirk never had any trouble sleeping on the Enterprise. When he wanted to jaw on about his nocturnal activities, the conversation always fell into one of two categories: “scoring” (he mostly stuck to women - or beings - who weren’t crew, thank the stars) and dreaming.
Ninety times out of a hundred, the doctor protested that he didn’t have the time or the desire to listen to yet another of his friend’s stories. Thirty times out of a hundred, he was lying his ass off.
Because as much as it pained him to sit through Jim’s smug retellings of the scope, the hunt, the pull and, finally, the act itself (all in excruciating detail), when the topic turned to the captain’s dreams instead of his sex life, usually the conversations (or monologues, more like) got interesting.
_____
“I had the weirdest dream, Bones,” Jim began. “We were approaching the Blahnikian System when all of a sudden…”
__________
“Keptin Kirtle, short-range sensors are picking up unidentified spacecraft comink straight for us!” Ensign Pizhama Chekov called out. “It seems to haf just appeared out of novhere, sir!” He stumbled over his words as he read off the other ship’s coordinates.
James T-Shirt Kirtle left off watching his first officer watch the satin teddy at the communication station and spun the command rack around.
“Mr. Tutu, reduce power to impulse three and bring her round - port, forty degrees,” the captain said calmly as he swished off of his rack and moved closer to the front of the bridge
“Aye, sir!” replied the frothy golden helmskirt. “Speed at impulse three! Bringing us about, forty degrees to port!”
“Shields up! Forward viewscreen on!” Kirtle authoritatively ordered the young pair of pink footie pajamas who was practically trembling with either excitement or terror. Swishing even closer to peer at the display, Kirtle added, “Lieutenant Underoosa, open hailing frequencies,” as a strangely-shaped ship - the USS Enterprise, according to the name printed in huge black letters across its hull - appeared on the screen.
“Hailing frequencies already open, Captain,” the teddy told him. “And they’re responding.”
Chapter 2
Fandom: Star Trek: Reboot
Characters: McCoy, Kirk, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, Spock, Scott
A/N: This is the first chapter of the third of the four stories.
Warnings: pure crack, oddest premise yet;
( Read Story One, Chap. 1 )
( Read Story One, Chap. 2 )
( Read Story One, Chap. 3 )
( Read Story Two, Chap. 1 )
( Read Story Two, Chap. 2 )
( Read Story Two, Chap. 3 )
“Bones! You won’t believe happened last night!”
The door hadn’t even closed behind him and the boy was already shouting. Leonard McCoy stifled a groan, but didn’t bother looking up from his desk and the report he was revising. He was off-duty - sort of. Ship’s surgeon, just like the captain, was never off-duty. But he was in his own quarters, already in his pajamas and Jim Kirk hadn’t bothered to chime before he’d come bursting in. That was close enough for Bones.
He heard Jim flop down on the narrow fabric-covered pew that passed for a sofa on the damned flying death-trap they were stuck on for the next three years, and tried to keep his sigh as close to inaudible as possible. If the captain was making himself comfortable, nothing short of a red alert would get rid of him in under an hour. McCoy knew his night was shot, but he wasn’t gonna give in easily.
“You can pretend to ignore me all you want,” came the voice from across the room, “but I know that you know that you want to hear it. And you know that I know that you know.”
Abandoning the report, Bones dropped his head into his hands. There was no winning against the kid.
“What?” he barked, still not looking over to the pew.
“‘What… sir,’“ Kirk corrected.
“Blast it, Jim!” McCoy spun around from the desk to find his best friend for the last five years grinning triumphantly.
While the older man worked on lowering his blood pressure and forcing himself not to say something stupid, the captain stretched languidly.
_____
A lot of people complained about the time it took to become accustomed to sleeping on a starship. The constant ambient noise, so different from that of the Earth; the artificial distinction between ship’s day and ship’s night; the constant sense of forward progression (or so a very few claimed) - there were as many excuses, Leonard McCoy suspected - as there were crew members. Some people had lists several items long. He knew, because everyone liked to complain about it to the chief medical officer if they got the chance.
It was all bullshit, of course. Mostly, anyway. All the ships in the fleet had been designed to either eliminate, or at the very least greatly diminish, the very effects of long-term travel in a giant tin-can that all these folks wasted Bones’s time whining about.
The captain was a different kettle of fish altogether. Jim Kirk never had any trouble sleeping on the Enterprise. When he wanted to jaw on about his nocturnal activities, the conversation always fell into one of two categories: “scoring” (he mostly stuck to women - or beings - who weren’t crew, thank the stars) and dreaming.
Ninety times out of a hundred, the doctor protested that he didn’t have the time or the desire to listen to yet another of his friend’s stories. Thirty times out of a hundred, he was lying his ass off.
Because as much as it pained him to sit through Jim’s smug retellings of the scope, the hunt, the pull and, finally, the act itself (all in excruciating detail), when the topic turned to the captain’s dreams instead of his sex life, usually the conversations (or monologues, more like) got interesting.
_____
“I had the weirdest dream, Bones,” Jim began. “We were approaching the Blahnikian System when all of a sudden…”
__________
“Keptin Kirtle, short-range sensors are picking up unidentified spacecraft comink straight for us!” Ensign Pizhama Chekov called out. “It seems to haf just appeared out of novhere, sir!” He stumbled over his words as he read off the other ship’s coordinates.
James T-Shirt Kirtle left off watching his first officer watch the satin teddy at the communication station and spun the command rack around.
“Mr. Tutu, reduce power to impulse three and bring her round - port, forty degrees,” the captain said calmly as he swished off of his rack and moved closer to the front of the bridge
“Aye, sir!” replied the frothy golden helmskirt. “Speed at impulse three! Bringing us about, forty degrees to port!”
“Shields up! Forward viewscreen on!” Kirtle authoritatively ordered the young pair of pink footie pajamas who was practically trembling with either excitement or terror. Swishing even closer to peer at the display, Kirtle added, “Lieutenant Underoosa, open hailing frequencies,” as a strangely-shaped ship - the USS Enterprise, according to the name printed in huge black letters across its hull - appeared on the screen.
“Hailing frequencies already open, Captain,” the teddy told him. “And they’re responding.”
Chapter 2