Spock's Jeans

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Laura Cynthia Chambers, Apr 21, 2017 at 4:30 PM.

  1. Laura Cynthia Chambers

    Laura Cynthia Chambers Commodore Fleet Captain

    Jun 1, 2016
    ***You can either have this replace "Spock's Brain" in your head canon or not. Written by me and my brother.***

    “Captain’s log, USS
    Enterprise: Following a brief intrusion by several unknown individuals, I have ordered a full inventory to be made of the Enterprise’s cargo, as well as any personal possessions belonging to the crew. Special attention is to be given to the contents of the armory and sickbay.”

    “The inventory report from Engineering, sir,” Yeoman Grice said, handing a data slate to Kirk. “All technology, materials, and sundry items present and accounted for.” He took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for the captain’s response.

    “Thank you, Yeoman,” Kirk nodded, briefly perusing the slate’s contents until he came to the bottom of the document, where Montgomery Scott’s signature affirmed Grice’s statement. Tapping the tip of the stylus against the side of the slate twice, he added his signature to the report and passed it back to Grice, who walked up the steps of the command well towards the turbolift, passing two bridge officers who were heading to their stations.

    Kirk turned to the communications station. “Lieutenant, any word from security on the investigation?”

    Uhura pressed a switch on her console and shook her head. “They’re still sweeping the ship for evidence, sir. Mister Scott reports no evidence of tampering with critical systems thus far.”

    Kirk rested his chin on one hand. “That’s good to know.” He looked up as the doors opened to reveal McCoy, who headed toward the spot Grice had vacated. His posture was slightly stiff, though his eyes showed relief. “Bones. Thought you’d still be busy.”

    “Just finished,. The report’ll be along in a moment.” McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll be happy to know we’re not missing a blessed thing; heaven knows I am. But just the thought of a break-in makes me…” He shivered. “And nobody had the slightest idea we’d been boarded?”

    Kirk shook his head. “Not until they beamed away, I’m afraid. We’re still trying to understand how they did it, or what they were after. None of our personnel were harmed or seized, our databases weren’t accessed…no sign of any unknown craft in the area…” He shrugged.

    “Y’know, Jim, maybe it’d be easier if you just told me what you do know?” McCoy drawled, a wry twist to his mouth.

    A short woman in a blue dress carrying an armful of slates tapped Kirk on the shoulder. “Sciences reports nothing missing, sir.”

    The slate on the top of her stack began to slide off, but Kirk caught it, taking the rest one at a time from her arms and resting them on the arm of his chair. “Thank you, sir.” She turned around and headed for the science station.

    “Donahue?” At his call, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Have you seen Mr. Spock this morning?”

    She thought for a moment, patting the side of her head to smooth a stray strand of black hair. “No, sir. Not since yesterday, end of shift.” Turning back to the station, she bent over the viewer and began to adjust the settings.

    Kirk shared a confused look with McCoy, then turned to Uhura. “Lieutenant, the automated roll call…where did it say Commander Spock was?”

    Uhura leaned forward and reached for her slate, tapping the screen a few times before spinning her chair around. “According to this, as of 0634 hours, he was recorded as being in his quarters. Asleep, likely.” She lowered the slate to her lap. “But it’s now 0917 hours. It’s not like him to be late for his shift,” she added, frowning slightly.

    “No, it’s not.” Kirk punched the comm button on his chair. “Kirk to security.”

    Galbraith here, sir.”

    “Send a couple of men to -”

    Captain,” Spock gasped hoarsely.

    Everyone on the bridge turned and looked toward the entrance. Uhura gasped. A wild-eyed Spock stood by the door, one hand pressed against the frame. His hair was disheveled, his breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. But the most glaring detail of his appearance was the fact that he was wearing only the top half of his uniform. A pair of plain black shorts ended just below his knees, in lieu of his usual long pants.

    Kirk’s finger depressed the mute button as he got up quickly from his chair, McCoy not far behind. “Spock! What happened?” He reached for Spock’s other arm, which hung limply at his side, and helped the Vulcan stagger barefooted towards the adjoining wall, lowering him to the ground gently.

    McCoy pulled at the corner of one of the Vulcan’s eyes, then the other, before reaching for his medical tricorder and turning it on, running the reader over Spock’s body. “I’ll give him a mild tranquilizer. I’ve never seen him like this before, Jim.” He removed a hypospray from his medkit and injected Spock in the shoulder.

    “Captain…” Spock repeated, grabbing Kirk’s uniform shirt. “The…intruders…”

    Kirk grabbed Spock’s shoulder, shaking him once. “What is it, Spock? What about them?”

    “They…took…” Spock swallowed hard. “…my jeans,” he finished, his voice strained but stronger, twisting Kirk’s collar as he stared straight into the captain’s eyes with desperation, then shifted his gaze to McCoy.

    “Come again?” McCoy asked, almost dropping the hypospray.

    “My jeans, Captain,” Spock repeated, releasing Kirk‘s collar. “They are gone.”

    Kirk smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, still unable to believe he’d heard Spock correctly. “Your jeans, Spock? As in denims?”

    “Precisely.” Spock’s breathing slowed, the tranquilizer beginning to take effect. “I have been looking for them everywhere. But they are nowhere to be found. The intruders have absconded with them.”

    “And from the looks of things, they stole ‘em right off your person,” McCoy muttered, replacing the hypo in his kit. “Am I right?”

    Spock glanced down. “No. In my haste to locate them, I must not have finished dressing. My apologies for this breach of protocol, as well as my tardiness and the disruption, sir,” he added.

    Kirk stood up, offering Spock a hand, which the Vulcan accepted. “I’ll overlook it this time, Commander.”

    Spock closed his eyes, green streaks flushing his cheeks. “Thank you. May I be excused to finish dressing now?”

    “You might want to borrow a spare work overall to wear until you get to your quarters, don’t you think?” McCoy asked, one hand on his hip.

    Uhura was already bending over underneath her console to retrieve one from the compartment. “Here you go, Mister Spock,” she said, averting her eyes to spare him further embarrassment as she handed him the orange garment.

    Spock stepped into the overall and fastened it up to his waist. “Much obliged,” he replied, and she smiled and nodded back. Passing the workstations next to Uhura’s, he stepped towards the turbolift. Pausing, he turned back to Kirk, a little of his earlier desperation still present in his eyes. “We must find my jeans, sir,” he reiterated, then disappeared into the lift.
  2. Laura Cynthia Chambers

    Laura Cynthia Chambers Commodore Fleet Captain

    Jun 1, 2016
    Captain’s log, supplemental: After locating the Megromar pirate vessel, we were able to retrieve the, uh…items they seized during their incursion, without recording any casualties on our part. Unfortunately, our security teams were unable to bring those individuals responsible into custody. We have since lost contact with their vessel, and all attempts to locate them on long-range sensors have failed. I have filed a full report with Starfleet Command, and am confident that the consequences of this incident will be handled in the appropriate manner.

    Captain’s personal log: Spock’s jeans are once again in his possession. I’ve decided it would be in his best interests if the details of what exactly was stolen from the Enterprise was never made clear. I’ve also taken the liberty of leaving out the fact that the Megromar’s successful “escape” wasn’t entirely due to their brilliant evasive maneuvers, either. That wouldn’t look very good on my record, now, would it? Besides, I’m not willing to take the chance that they might not be as embarrassed to reveal what they stole as we would be to admit our failure to prevent their break-in or escape. Some secrets are better lost to the cosmos…

    “Set course for the Chi Temalis system, Mr. Sulu. Warp 2,” Kirk ordered.

    “Aye, sir. Warp 2.” The helmsman leaned forward and made the necessary adjustments.

    Kirk leaned back in his chair. It had been two days since an Enterprise boarding party had set foot on the Megromar ship and demanded the return of any and all stolen property. As the ship’s five man crew was ill-armed, relying more on stealth to achieve their objectives, they were more than happy to comply. They even threw in a few bottles of Nichlian gin, which they claimed they had purchased at their last port of call.

    Notorious for only being drinkable in a two month window, the beverage was almost at the end of its life. McCoy had therefore declared it a “public health emergency”, adding that, in his professional opinion, it should be consumed at once, despite its likely being stolen goods. “When you think about it, we’re really doing them a favor,” he’d said in reference to the beverage’s previous owners. It was to be served in the senior staff’s dining room that night.

    As if Kirk had summoned him merely by calling his earlier words to mind, McCoy appeared at Kirk’s side. “Slow day, Bones?”

    “For once,” McCoy replied, studying his uniform shirt. “I finally got a chance to read that monograph on the Naduc plagues while the computer was running a Moyers series on those samples from the warp maintenance team. All within normal parts per million, by the way. Aside from that, a couple of jammed fingers and a bloody nose.” He leaned one hand on the backrest.

    Kirk chuckled. “That’s slow?”

    “Go to medical school and tell me again that it ain’t,” McCoy replied.

    “You’re the expert.” Accepting a cup of coffee from Yeoman Stallings, Kirk took a slow sip. “I don’t suppose you happened to run into Spock down there, did you?”

    Nurse Chapel paused, looking at the readings she had been taking of Chekov’s bruised shoulder. “Mmmm….no, I haven’t seen him. Not since the boarding party returned after retrieving Spock’s….property.”

    McCoy frowned. “Don’t tell me he’s AWOL again. What’d they steal this time, his lute?”

    Kirk shook his head. “It’s only 0833 hours.” He set down his cup on the armrest. “He’s probably just down in the labs, conferring with the night-”

    The turbolift swished open behind them.

    “-shift,” Kirk finished, standing up from his chair and following McCoy’s gaze. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and now focused on the open lift. Sulu and Chekov pretended they weren’t looking. Uhura had taken the earpiece out of her ear and now toyed with it nervously. Christine stared on in disbelief, her mouth open but not saying anything.

    A lone figure stood in the doorway, legs slightly spread apart. Slowly, he stepped onto the bridge, his strides lengthening with each step. It was Spock. Unlike his earlier entrance, he was completely calm and composed, hair perfectly coiffed. He was clothed impeccably from head to toe; blue uniform shirt with insignia and rank braid perfectly affixed, not a thread out of place. On his feet, standard issue black boots. In his hand, a data slate and stylus. The only non-regulation aspect of his attire was a pair of stonewashed blue jeans, expertly pressed.

    Spock passed several duty officers, almost strutting, before finally coming to a stop in front of the command chair, a hint of a smile on his face. “Do you like my jeans, Captain?”

    Kirk nodded. “Yes, Spock. Very nice.”

    The Vulcan bowed his head. “Doctor?”

    McCoy stroked his chin. “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually think they suit you.”

    “Yes,” Kirk agreed, holding one hand palm up towards the Vulcan. “They uh, give you sort of a rugged, outdoorsman look. Don’t you think so, Bones?”

    McCoy raised one finger in the air. “Rugged. Yes. That’s exactly it.”

    Spock cocked his head to one side. “If you do not care for them, please say so. I would prefer you were honest with me rather than lying to spare my feelings. I assure you I will take no offense.”

    “We’re not lying, Spock. They really do suit you. It’s just…perhaps you should save them for off duty hours,” Kirk suggested. “With the new security protocols we’ve enabled since the incident, they’ll be safe in your quarters.”

    Christine smiled, putting her hands on Spock’s shoulders. “You look very handsome, Spock. I’m sure I’m not the first on this ship to notice.”

    Spock nodded. “Thank you, Christine.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose they would.” His mouth curved upwards. “Thank you for saving my jeans, Captain.”

    Kirk clapped him on the shoulder. “Any time.” He watched as Spock headed back up towards the turbolift, a very un-Vulcan spring in his steps. As he passed Uhura’s station, he stopped briefly and leaned up against the console, apparently answering a question she had asked him. A minute later, he nodded to her and entered the lift, spinning on one heel sharply and casting everyone a final confident stare as the doors slid shut.

    Slowly, the bridge crew then began to return to their duties. Sulu and Chekov huddled together, whispering something. Stallings looked down at the empty tray in her hand as though she just realized it was there. Uhura glanced at the lift doors one final time before re-inserting her earpiece and answering a call. Chapel stifled a grin behind a fist, eyeing McCoy before returning her attention to Chekov’s injury.

    With a sigh, Kirk leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. “You know, I’ve never seen Spock that happy before. Have you?”

    McCoy shook his head. “He’s like a whole different person. The last time I saw him smile like that was when he found out he hadn’t killed you after all. Now why can’t he lighten up more often?”

    “I don’t know, Doctor,” Kirk shrugged, one corner of his mouth twitching. “I guess it’s just not in his jeans.”

    “Not in his…” McCoy blinked, then covered his face with one hand, eyes closed. “Oh, I need a drink…”
  3. Laura Cynthia Chambers

    Laura Cynthia Chambers Commodore Fleet Captain

    Jun 1, 2016
    “First officer’s personal log, supplemental. I am pleased to report that my jeans are now safely back in my possession. In fact, I am wearing them as I record this. In an effort to keep them from being stolen again, I have requested that there be an improvement to the security protocols utilized in and around the crew quarters. Such measures will take a while to come into effect, but I do feel this will benefit all of us. For now, however, I am relieved that “the jeans incident’ has not ended tragically.”

    Tapping the button to end the recording, Spock slid the PADD onto a table and leaned back into a comfortable chair. The day’s activities had been somewhat stressful. The boarding party he had led expertly handled their Megromarian opponents and reclaimed the stolen jeans without much difficulty. Seeing that they were pirates, and rather poorly armed ones at that, they was no further incident. The ship was taken into custody and Spock brought the team back unscathed, save one minor injury to Ensign Chekov’s shoulder after a fall he had taken leaping over a railing to catch one of the fleeing pirates.

    Sipping a Vulcan herbal tea, Spock sighed, lifting one leg and then the other onto the table. Until now, Spock really had not seen much of any pleasure one would derive from simply lounging around. Doctor McCoy had suggested that very form of relaxation to him on numerous occasions, but Spock had elected to resort to forms of Vulcan meditation to wind down.

    Now, he was more than happy to just sit and relax in his comfortable jeans. Looking down at the stonewash blue color of the legs, he ran a hand down one thigh, smoothing out a crease with a small smile curving his lips. Happiness was not normal for Spock.

    Unless, of course, he was wearing his favorite jeans.
  4. Laura Cynthia Chambers

    Laura Cynthia Chambers Commodore Fleet Captain

    Jun 1, 2016
    Kirk shifted in his chair, adjusting in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Something was bothering him, but he dared not voice his concern. Still, his curiosity got the better of him. “Doctor?”

    McCoy glanced up from his thoughts. “Hmm?”

    “You know, in this whole craziness regarding Spock’s…jeans, we haven’t heard hardly a peep out of Mister Scott.”

    McCoy shrugged. “I guess he’s too busy with security upgrades and system fixes.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

    “Oh, well…just wondering.” Kirk hesitated. “It’s just that Spock was missing for a long time before…” He trailed off. McCoy nodded, seemingly finishing the sentence in his mind.

    “No. It couldn’t be. Jim, you’re just getting ahead of yourself. Getting paranoid.” McCoy chuckled. “There’s no way it would happen again.”

    Kirk smiled, mirroring a similar expression on Lieutenant Uhura’s face. Looking back to McCoy, he added. “You’re right. I’ll bet if I call-” he put a finger up. “I’ll do so right now.” Leaning to his left chair arm, he pressed the intercom button. “Kirk to Engineering. Mister Scott?”

    Nothing. Then a few muffled bumps and rustles. Kirk furrowed his brow. “Mister Scott?”

    By now, most everyone on the bridge was cued in to the odd noise coming from the comm. Uhura interjected, “Scotty?” She strained to make out any kind of response.

    “Captain….I…I don’t understand it…”

    Kirk swallowed, composing himself. “What, Scotty? What don’t you understand?”

    “Meh kilt…..it’s gone!”