A/N: Okay, so I decided that for national coffee day (I know, right? I didn't even know it existed either until today!) I would get hyper on coffee and try to write the most mature fanfiction could. It may or may not be more mature than some others I've written, but i'll let you decide on that one. If you understand this, congratulations. You can speak gibberish too. :)

"Meester Sulu, what is that on your shoulder?" A grinning Chekov asked, his hand behind his back.

"Huh?" The helmsman of the Enterpise turned to look, an annoyed expression on his face as he turned back round to say that there wasn't anything there.

"TRIBBLE FIGHT!" Yelled the young ensign as he threw a ball of fur at his friend.

"Pavel, stop it! We're on duty!" Uhura said.

By now, Commander Spock had turned around and had raised an inquisitive eyebrow at what they were talking about.

"Ensign, what are you doing?"

Scotty rolled his eyes.

"Agh, ye shouldna' asked, mister Spock."

Another tribble went flying, this time headed straight for the first officer. He caught it just before it was squashed against the science console. Then another, headed towards the chief engineer.

"Alright, mister Chekov, this means war."

At that, Scotty got out his bagpipe and hit the tribble back to the navigator, who got a facefull of brown fur. Uhura decided that she wanted to join in too and grabbed the nearest tribble to her (which just so happened to be Chekov's favourite, Mr Snoodles) and threw it over to the navigator.

"Meester Snoodals! Uhura, not Meester Snoodals!" he screeched at the communications officer. Sulu threw one next, laughing at Chekov when he made a squealing sound. By now, the Russian had a whole pile of tribbles (which appeared out of nowhere, because this doesn't have to make sense) and was hurling them at every crewmember he saw. He threw one particularly hard at a random redshirt, who died instantly due to a non-existent immune system, a red uniform shirt and an allergy to tribbles being thrown by Russians.

"Oops." Chekov mouthed, stopping just long enough for piles of tribbles to appear next to everyone on the bridge except for him, the redshirt and Spock. Only when he reached for another tribble did he realize that everyone, except Spock of course, was looking at him, smirking.

"Ye want a tribble fight, laddie, you're gonna lose."

When the Captain walked on to the bridge minutes later, everything was normal, except for the fact that all he could see by the navigation console was a pile of tribbles. Two arms covered in a yellow shirt and an ensign's rank stripes stuck out from either side, and Sulu was sniggering at the muffled sounds coming from the centre of the pile.

"What happened?"

"D'ya really need to ask captain?"

"Chekov, how many times have I told you not to start tribble fights?"

There was another muffled sound, presumably a reply to the question.

Kirk decided to take mercy, lifting off a few tribbles from the top and revealing the smiling face of his navigator.

"Zat was fun!"

He saw the unimpressed face of his captain looking at him, so he smiled as innocently as he could.

"What, keptin? Tribble fights were inwented in Russia."

Everyone, except Spock, rolled thir eyes.

"And where did Meester Snoodals go?"