Author's Note: Hey there! Thanks for giving this fun little story a shot! This idea would never have been possible without the awesome collaboration from SilasBrandybuck and Scholar for Christ. They are exceptional writers (and fantastic Trekkies to boot) - feel free to read some of their works or shoot them a PM for the roles they play in this story. They definitely deserve it!

SilasBrandybuck: Spock

Scholar for Christ: McCoy

Questrunner: Kirk and Scotty

Additional characters: Collaborative effort

Leonard McCoy sighed heavily as he woke not to the comfort and quiet of the little home back in Georgia he'd left behind for some ungodly reason, but to the cramped quarters of his dorm room and the distinct sound of his roommate crunching cereal like he was consuming spoonfuls of gravel. It was annoying in and of itself, but made all the more so by the fact that Leonard knew very well that Jim hadn't bought any food of his own since they'd arrived two days ago for the Spring semester.

If classes weren't scheduled to start that day, Leonard might've smothered Jim with a pillow and gone back to sleep. As things stood, he had a doctorate's worth of med classes ahead of him and wasn't going to get anywhere lying around like a sack of potatoes.

With solemn resignation, Leonard hauled himself upright, abandoning the relative comfort of his bunk for one of the only two chairs in the room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, glaring at the chipper young sophomore across the table from him.

"How the hell can you be a night owl and an early bird?" he groused, snatching the cereal box from Jim's hand before he could add more to his already overflowing bowl.

In-between mouthfuls of crunchy goodness, Jim tipped the creaking chair back as far as the spindly legs would allow. To his roommate's disgust, he leaned out of his seat and pulled a secret Captain Crunch box amidst a clutter of glazed animal crackers and chocolate chip cookies in the pantry before devouring his breakfast with gusto. He caught the slight roll of Leonard's eyes as the doctor-in-training prepared a pot of cheap coffee with an equally cheap coffeemaker. The machine made a few whirling noises and chucked a couple coffee grinds skyward until it gave one last, shuddering groan and fell silent. Jim pointed at the coffeepot with the end of his spoon and shrugged guiltily.

"Coffeemaker's dead."

"I can see that, Jim," the flustered medic groaned. "It all but blew up in my face."

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, it wouldn't make me a cup of Joe this morning, either," Jim admitted, pausing only to take a large gulp of orange juice. He ignored McCoy's resident scowl, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he waited for the priceless reaction.

"Wait. You KNEW this thing was busted and you didn't TELL me?!"

"I thought about warning you, but then you took my cereal box away. I hadn't even completed the puzzles on the back. I was in the middle of finding all of the hidden messages with the Captain Crunch Super Decoder!" Jim dawned his infamous puppy pout, the one he knew McCoy couldn't refuse. With an exasperated shake of his head and a few choice words, his overworked and overstressed roommate dropped the topic completely, letting Jim off the hook for yet another disaster. Jim adjusted his black, square-rimmed glasses and settled back into his chair with a contented sigh.

Jim Tiberius Kirk. Aviation major with minors in procrastination and looking damn good in a V-neck t-shirt. He didn't know how McCoy put up with him, what with his tendency to shirk responsibilities and tease him mercilessly. The blonde pushed the cereal bowl away with newfound interest as he peered at McCoy's student ID card. He picked it up and twirled it between his hands. Leonard McCoy.

"If you're done admiring my beautiful face, I'd like my ID back," McCoy grunted and swiped the card, none to gently, from Jim's prying fingers.

"Leonard's not a good name for you," Jim said, rising from the table as he stretched his arms. "Especially if you wanna impress the smoking hot ladies on campus. Have you even tried out the pick up line I found for you? The one that says 'you must be the square root of -1 because you can't be real'?"

"I don't NEED your cheesy pick up lines, Jim—"

"Leo. Do you want to go by Leo? Nah, you're not cool enough for that…Hmm, Len? Lenny? Lee? L to the A-R-D?" Jim persisted, despite McCoy's protests. "I'll think of one for you sooner or later. When the girls hear your new nickname, they'll basically melt into your arms like a bowl of Romulan noodles!"

"You mean RAMEN noodles."

"Whatever. Point being, I'll think of a good one. Trust me! It's bulletproof!"

"Kill me now," McCoy groaned, but Jim was already hard at work reinventing the medic's name.

The semester had not begun as smoothly as the last, Spock reflected, double-checking his laptop bag's catch as he headed out of the flat. A stream of espresso-clutching students flowed reluctantly to class, and he kept to the side, weaving carefully through the crowd at a determined pace. Though still technically winter, the day was rather mild.

Spending the holidays with his parents had of course been better than spending it alone here, but as he'd feared, his father had not been pleased to hear about his son's prospective change of major. All last night, Spock had been staring at the ceiling, trying to run budgets and figures through his mind while instead hearing his father's even voice - the same tone he reserved for uncooperative politicians and officials - state plainly, "If you choose to break from this family, you break from our finances as well. If our way of life is not good enough for you, I shall assume our money is not, either." And then they'd continued Christmas dinner, his mother casting him commiserating glances over the mashed potatoes while his father moved on to his upcoming trip to Israel.

Though she'd assured him that night that she would speak with his father, would work this out, Spock had no illusions that a belated Christmas miracle would give his father a change of heart. He'd always wanted Spock to follow him into politics, to be his right-hand man as a U.S. ambassador to whichever nation wanted him this week. Political science and sociology were great, were fine, but nothing else held the same spark of fascination for Spock as the hard sciences: physics, biology, all the amazing ways life presented itself for discovery.

This semester, he'd bitten the bullet and registered for all science courses, apart from the last few gen-ed courses the university required. "Here we go," he mumbled to himself in the empty elevator as he checked the room number for Career Building: Steps to Your Future. Even if the class proved to be a complete waste of time, at least Nyota would be there to join him in griping about it afterwards. Most of the people waiting anxiously outside the doorway looked like freshmen, bags newly purchased and hair obsessively styled to make the optimum impression on the first day of classes. He strode past them and into the open classroom, quickly deciding on a desk at the front-left of the room. He set up his laptop and keyed in the password, then, after a moment's thought, shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair beside him, reserving it for Nyota's arrival.

"I cannae take the class, Professor! If ye would just listen—!"

"Like I told you during orientation and again this morning, it's required. So suck it up and just get through the semester, okay?"

"But, Professor Pike! I already know I'm gonna be an engineer an' I've mapped it all out, so this is really a waste of time—" The two entered the small classroom, a slow trickle of students following in their wake. Pike indicated a seat to the left behind a stoic, dark-haired fellow.

"Take a seat, hotshot. Now."

Montgomery Scott sighed dejectedly and huffed out an, "Aye, sir," before trudging dejectedly toward the empty desk. He slung his bag by his feet and reached for his notepad, doodling a hypothetical diluthium reactor in the corner powered by hypothetical diluthium crystals. His mini blueprint made him smile, though he knew the fictional device would never come to fruition. He tried to ignore the increasing chatter as more students filed in, their accents washing over him like a tidal wave as he tried to piece together conversations. Born and raised in Scotland, the move to America to attend college had been difficult, but well worth it from an intellectual perspective. He was enrolled in some of the best engineering courses in the country, with enough free time left over to tinker on some of his own projects.

He drummed his fingers on his desk absentmindedly. While he was excited about his future and did have a career path in mind, he quickly started seeing the downsides of being a foreigner. The two seats beside him and directly behind him remained empty as people grabbed more seats and gravitated toward their friends.

Leonard fell into his seat with a thinly veiled glare at Jim who naturally took the spot to Leonard's right and was already pulling out a notebook and pen. How he could be so eager about a danged gen-ed, he had no idea. The class was new this semester, new and required, and that spelled a whole three hours of rearranging classes and internship hours all so he could sit in a room with a bunch of freshmen learning all about "reaching for the stars" or "boldly going" and doing who knew what. He was going to be a doctor, not a danged career specialist. All this class was giving him was less sleep, more assignments, and (most likely) Jim hounding him about what homework was due when.

Clenching his jaw against any public displays of his displeasure (he'd already provided enough of that in Professor Pike's office AND his advisor's trying to get out of this thing), Leonard pulled his water bottle from his backpack and took a swig of the alcohol the bright blue case concealed. Students were slowly filing in and Leonard watched them absently. A curly haired freshman looking relieved to have found the correct room, his friend the black-clad Asian kid who looked like he'd prefer to sit in the far back corner than in the front row where his eager friend led him. A couple girls joined the crowd, and he found himself hoping the pretty blonde nursing student would be among them, but instead, he got a couple of sorority girls whose chatting turned to giggling as Jim grinned at them and a pair of girls who settled themselves in the seats in front of him and Jim. The dark skinned beauty in front of him was leaning over to talk to the guy at her left and Leonard smirked at the way the tips of the guy's ears went red when she touched his shoulder.

To her right, sitting in front of Jim, was a slim redhead, clearly the friend, probably roommate of the gal who'd turned in her seat to continue her conversation and was now giving him quite the eyeful of long bare leg (which he refused to look at because he wouldn't hear the end of it until Jim found some other reason to tease him).

Leaning back in his chair as Professor Pike passed around the syllabus, Leonard glanced at the guy to his left. The expression on his face was one Leonard knew well, utter exasperation and exhaustion with the system.

"Hey," he prompted, keeping his voice low as Pike started the usual school policy speech. "You look like you could use a drink. Just be warned, it's strong stuff and if Pike gets interested, I'll deny everything." He offered the bottle, keeping his hand below desk level so as not to attract unwanted attention.

Jim hunched over his notebook protectively, pausing only to flash a one-of-a-kind smile at a group of passing females before scribbling on the blue-lined paper once more. Leonardo. Leon. Lens. He scrunched his face at the words. Ugh. There was literally no good way to transform Leonard's name into a number ten on the Richter Scale of Coolness. And with McCoy's perpetual scowl and constant whining, he'd never woo a beauty at this rate. He briefly wondered if his roommate actually wanted his help…Jim shrugged. Oh, well. He had more important things on his mind, like becoming his pal Leonard's ultimate wingman and forcing him to confront the as-of-yet-unknown woman of his dreams. But, first thing's first. A suitable nickname. Jim tapped his pencil lazily against his desk and glanced at McCoy, blocking his view of the notebook just in case he tried to sneak a peek at his awesome ramblings.

Surprisingly, Leonard's attention was elsewhere. He beamed at the sight of the usual grumpy, cold-shouldered med student offering his desk neighbor a drink of water from his water bottle. Yay! Leonard was actually making a friend instead of hiding behind a book. Or two books. Or three books. Or four… The presence of an unwanted syllabus shook him out of his reverie. He scanned the paper with half a glance. Weekly quizzes. Three major tests. Multiple pop quizzes. A collaborative group project. YES! GROUP PROJECT! Jim loved them, mostly because he found it exhilarating to boss around a group of student drones and force them to do the lion's share of his assignment while he sat back and enjoyed the ride. A guaranteed easy A.

Jim eventually pushed his pencil aside and fished a rubber band from his pocket. He twirled it between his hands and threw it up in the air a few times while the professor's back was turned, just to see how high he could throw it. It was then that Jim noticed the dark-haired student clad in blue one row ahead of him, typing studiously into his laptop while Professor Pike rambled on about careers, their future, the horrible job market, the depressing reality of student loans, blah blah blah. Smirking, the blonde raised the rubber band, pulled it back, took aim and let it fly. He tried not to laugh as it made contact with the shiny bull cut.