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…"