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I had a dream last night wherein Xena and Karl-Urban-Caesar were t'hy'la, and you know, it was all tragic when Caesar betrayed Xena, even more than in the show because they had this mind-link and everything, but then Kirk came and told Xena it would be okay because mirror!Scotty had betrayed him, too, and he'd gotten over it. I think Spock was lurking in the background wearing Joxor's outfit.

...Guys, I don't even know. My brain is broken.

Blue (6/?). Spock/McCoy, Amanda, ensemble. All parts here.
"Alright, Spock," Bones said, "I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt this time and not accuse you of kickin' up a ruckus, even if you are an ornery little pest more of the time."


The problem was that Jim wanted him to get along with Spock. As a result, unless Bones hid out in his office during mealtimes, he ended up eating both breakfast and supper with his least-favorite Vulcan.

"—and then I told the praetor that if he wanted my ship, he'd have to beam over here and fight me himself," Jim said.

"We know, Jim," Bones said, and prodded at his grilled chicken. "We were there."

Jim looked disgruntled. "You weren't there for that part—"

"Yes," Bones contradicted, "I was. I was standing behind you with a med kit in case the good praetor decided to take you up on the offer. God only knows it wouldn't be the first time you'd gotten yourself into a knock-down drag-out with a Romulan."

Jim pulled a face at him, and Bones concluded that he had the least mature commanding officer in the entire fleet. In the background, a yeoman was reading poetry over the loudspeaker. Sometimes the personnel took it upon themselves to provide evening entertainment, and in the four times he hadn't eaten in his office or the officer's lounge, Bones had been privy to juggling, a lute performance, Chinese plate spinning, and a small-scale reenactment of Caberet, rendered even more exotic by an all-Andorian cast.

"Doctor," Spock said, "is the meal not to your liking?"

"It ain't cooked if it ain't fried," Bones answered, more to his plate and thin air than to Spock.

"That's not true for everything," Jim said. "Fried fruit?" Up on his platform, the yeoman poet starts in on Dylan Thomas.

"Ever had banana chips?" Bones leveled his fork at the captain. "Jim, if you haven't had fried banana chips smothered in honey, you haven't eaten."

"Doctor," Spock cut in, "may I ask a personal question?"

Bones traded a glance with Jim; Jim nodded encouragingly, so Bones sighed and said, "Go ahead, Spock."

"Why do you occasionally exaggerate your accent? Typically your speech bears little to no trace of your southeastern North American origin, yet at times you speak with an emphasized inflection and ungrammatical syntax."

"Alright, Spock," Bones said, "I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt this time and not accuse you of kickin' up a ruckus, even if you are an ornery little pest more of the time."

Spock blinked. Jim said, "Bones, don't tease the Vulcan."

In the background, the yeoman recited, "And you, my father, there on that sad height—"

Bones stood up. "Going somewhere?" Jim asked.

"Yes," Bones said, and just because he could, added, "I'll catch you city slickers later," even though he'd never used the phrase before in his life.

He left to the sound of "Do not go gentle—" and didn't stick around to hear the rest.

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