Title:Captain's Orders

Author:Falsegoddess

Rating: T

Other:First Star Trek Fanfiction. Flames will be used to make smores. Mmmmm, smores.

Inspired by this wonderful pic: gallery/23934742?offset=24#/d2bydzc

Star Trek is not mine

"Hehehe," Kirk chuckled to himself, proudly holding up the box he had just received in the privacy of his room. During a recent shore leave on a rather commercial planet, he had seen this particular item for sale at one of the booths in a large market place. Sure the place was designed completely to take tourists' money, but for this item? Kirk was all too pleased to hand over the thirty five credits, an exuberant price for such an item as this. But, was it worth it?

Hell yes, Captain James Tiberius Kirk thought to himself, grinning like a madman as he tore open the gift box. Inside was a t-shirt, sporting the slogan "I'm with Awesome" with an arrow pointing to the right. It was perfect in every way! Now he needed to send it to Federation Headquarters, along with a note petitioning them to change the uniforms of the Enterprise to include the shirt. Then all he had to do was stand to the right of every crewman to let the world know just how awesome he was! He giggled in excitement, imagining his re-uniformed crew. But a thought quickly brought his vision to an end. How could he be to the right of every crew member at all times? His brow crinkled in thought as he tried coming up with the solution, but, alas, not one presented itself. Damn.

Distraught, he plopped down onto his bed letting out a deep sigh as he did so. His plan had been so perfect! Maybe not very well thought out, but still perfect. Kirk carelessly tossed the shirt to the end of the bed. What a waste of thirty-five credits… he thought miserably. Cool shirt, but it has no use… or maybe not… Kirk sat upright just as if a bolt of lightning had run up his spine. Maybe it does have a use after all! Kirk crawled to the edge of his bed and picked up the discarded shirt, clutching it to his chest protectively and smiling mischievously. Yes… this would be epic…

Kirk strolled onto the bridge, whistling merrily. He flashed a cheery smile at every crewman. Many were confused by this rather chipper version of the captain. It was after all the day after shore leave when the captain, the chief medical officer, and the head of engineering were notoriously known to report to their stations with a screaming headache looking like they had woken up on the wrong side of the galaxy. McCoy had hangover drugs he could turn to in order to work coherently the next morning, but when he was in full on hangover mode he was not very willing to share with the other two. He preferred to amuse himself by watching them suffer. Therefore, Kirk and Scotty usually ended up resorting to their own tried-and-true hangover remedies which, for the captain, was sleeping it off, making his presence on the Bridge at this early hour even more puzzling.

Little did they (or more for that matter McCoy) know that Kirk had snuck some of those medicinal hangover cures from McCoy's storeroom. True, the doctor was going to kick his ass later for doing so, but it would be sooo worth it for what he was about to do.

Kirk sauntered up to his First officer's station, grasping the shirt behind his back. "Hey, Spock," he chirped pleasantly. Said Vulcan turned around from his tools to face the captain, seeming to scan his face and appearance for any clue as to why he was on the Bridge at his appointed shift hour. Finding none, he proceeded to speak.

"Greetings, Captain. Although it is your appointed shift time and it expected and applauded that you are here, I would like to inquire as to why you are operating outside what is the normal routine of yours after shore leave." Spock inquired in that oh-so-Vulcan deadpan voice of his. Kirk blinked, his face going blank for a moment as he processed what the Vulcan had just asked him. When it finally dawned on him, his smile returned and he seemed as if he was going to burst.

"Awww, Spock, didn't know you cared so much 'bout me!" Kirk exclaimed, slapping a hand of the Science Officer's back. Spock froze up from the contact, just what Kirk had been banking on for his plan to work. With a swift movement, the captain removed the shirt he was hiding from behind his back, removed his hand from Spock's back, opened the t-shirt, and attempted to slide it over Spock's head and onto his torso. What he hadn't accounted for was one, Spock was sitting down; and two, Spock was Vulcan.

Spock sensed the impending physical contact and, although he did not realize what the captain was trying to do, ducked under Kirks arms and swept his body behind him. Kirk turned after seeing that the shirt was on the chair rather than his intended victim, er, participant. Spock looked down, along with the rest of the crew on the Bridge, at the t-shirt, taking in just what was written across the front of it. His deep chocolate-brown eyes grew wide. Someone on the bridge yelled, 'Run!' Spock was more than happy to oblige.

'Damn," Kirk muttered, glaring daggers at Sulu who looked down hastily, pretending to adjust something on the controls. Kirk turned and ran from the Bridge, catching up to Spock and jumping into the turbolift just as its doors were about to close. The doors clicked shut a second later, and the last thing the crew saw before the lift took off was the determined face of the captain and the hidden terror on his first officer's face.

The bridge crew watched in silence and listened as the turbo lift hummed down to the next floor, stopped, then smoothly made its way back up to the bridge. It halted, making a whooshing sound as the lift doors separated. The crew held their breath. Silence. And then…

Spock stepped out, head down, eyes staring at the floor as if a particular weld or tile required his undivided attention. His hair was slightly ruffled, and his face glimmered with sweat. A slight green blush spread across his face as he almost ran back to his station. Over his regulation blue uniform shirt was the shirt, its bold black letters announced to the world where "Awesome" was.

The crew turned its attention back toward the turbolift, from which Kirk had yet to appear. Suddenly, soft coughing noises emerged from the lift. McCoy rushed over to it, concern plastered across his face. He peered in cautiously just as Kirk jumped exuberantly from the lift grinning like an idiot. His eyes glittered with the excitement of victory. McCoy and the rest of the bridge went slack-jawed at their captain's appearance. Kirk's hair was disheveled to an extreme degree with some loose hairs clinging to his shirt as if they had been forcefully removed. His uniform was torn in several places, clawed, scratched, and pierced. The crew could see several bruises forming where the shirt had been torn. His face was shiny from physical exertion and his cheeks were a rosy red. Kirk staggered forward, limping slightly. He wobbled over to Spock's science station and braced himself against the right side of the chair, spinning the chair so that Spock faced the crew.

With both the embarrassed Vulcan and the t-shirt in full view, Kirk flashed all thirty-two gleaming teeth in an eye-burningly bright smile.

"I… am… awesome," he panted. Spock looked down as a fresh green blush spread over his face.

McCoy sighed, muttering "Unbelievable…" under his breath and ushering Kirk to the medical bay. Just as they were about to depart down the turbobay, Kirk spun around to face Spock.

"Shirt stays on." He said. When Spock opened his mouth to question or protest the order, Kirk interrupted him with a gleam in his eye.

"Captain's orders."

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