Misadventures: Territorial Boundaries
This is--gah, this is way ahead of the plot where we last left it. I was hoping (HA!) that I'd get the earlier fics done first, but not so much. Yet. Anyhoo, I'm not hitting the comm with this till I've got them all to put into the proper order. Consider this a preview. It's mostly Jim and Bones, so you're not really missing anything essential to understanding the fic. You can find the rest of the series at the Star Trek index.
Title: Territorial Boundaries
Word Count: 371
Rating: PG
Disclaimer Post
Summary: Jim doesn't like it when people put their hands where they don't belong, and Bones is not above using that to his advantage.
Notes: I'll put a timeline note here when I've got enough posted for it to say more than "not early in the series."
Jim was engaged in staring venomously at the bridge at large when McCoy stepped off of the turbolift. Recent and rather annoying experience suggested that he was glaring at the delegation from Wherethefuckever, and not his bridge crew.
“That guy better move his hands before I do something seriously undiplomatic,” Bones heard him mutter as he approached.
“I don’t think that’s even a word,” Bones said under his breath. As he moved to stand at his captain’s left shoulder, he was vaguely surprised to find the pointy-eared bastard was not occupying his usual spot at Jim’s right. A quick visual sweep of the bridge revealed…well.
Perhaps a little glaring was in order.
“Which guy better move,” he asked softly, “the one that keeps messing with the helm or the one with his hands glued to Spock’s butt?”
“Both,” Jim hissed. “Either. I don’t care.”
Bones glanced at his captain out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t seen Jim this agitated since that unfortunate business last month with the alien cow, the not-quite-genderless thief (or maybe he was a priest, they’d never really figured that part out) and the ugliest green dress in the known universe.
Good. That would make his mission on the bridge that much easier.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Jim, and you’ll probably never hear me say it again, but-“
“Bones,” Jim growled, still glaring in the general direction of his first officer and Ambassador Touchy-Feely. “Cut to the chase.”
McCoy stepped in front of his captain and put both hands on his shoulders. When he was absolutely sure he had Jim’s full attention, he continued. “Jim, I give you permission to cause a diplomatic incident.”
Understanding dawned quickly. “They’re in your sickbay, aren’t they?” Jim asked, as a hint of his customary smirk came out of hiding for the first time that day.
Bones didn’t bother trying to deny it. “Yes, and as the captain of this ship, it is your duty to get them the hell out.”
Jim just grinned. Bones turned and headed back to his domain, content in the knowledge that Jim would have it free of interlopers before long. Meanwhile, he needed to get out of range, and fast.
Title: Territorial Boundaries
Word Count: 371
Rating: PG
Disclaimer Post
Summary: Jim doesn't like it when people put their hands where they don't belong, and Bones is not above using that to his advantage.
Notes: I'll put a timeline note here when I've got enough posted for it to say more than "not early in the series."
Jim was engaged in staring venomously at the bridge at large when McCoy stepped off of the turbolift. Recent and rather annoying experience suggested that he was glaring at the delegation from Wherethefuckever, and not his bridge crew.
“That guy better move his hands before I do something seriously undiplomatic,” Bones heard him mutter as he approached.
“I don’t think that’s even a word,” Bones said under his breath. As he moved to stand at his captain’s left shoulder, he was vaguely surprised to find the pointy-eared bastard was not occupying his usual spot at Jim’s right. A quick visual sweep of the bridge revealed…well.
Perhaps a little glaring was in order.
“Which guy better move,” he asked softly, “the one that keeps messing with the helm or the one with his hands glued to Spock’s butt?”
“Both,” Jim hissed. “Either. I don’t care.”
Bones glanced at his captain out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t seen Jim this agitated since that unfortunate business last month with the alien cow, the not-quite-genderless thief (or maybe he was a priest, they’d never really figured that part out) and the ugliest green dress in the known universe.
Good. That would make his mission on the bridge that much easier.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Jim, and you’ll probably never hear me say it again, but-“
“Bones,” Jim growled, still glaring in the general direction of his first officer and Ambassador Touchy-Feely. “Cut to the chase.”
McCoy stepped in front of his captain and put both hands on his shoulders. When he was absolutely sure he had Jim’s full attention, he continued. “Jim, I give you permission to cause a diplomatic incident.”
Understanding dawned quickly. “They’re in your sickbay, aren’t they?” Jim asked, as a hint of his customary smirk came out of hiding for the first time that day.
Bones didn’t bother trying to deny it. “Yes, and as the captain of this ship, it is your duty to get them the hell out.”
Jim just grinned. Bones turned and headed back to his domain, content in the knowledge that Jim would have it free of interlopers before long. Meanwhile, he needed to get out of range, and fast.