See this? This is crack. Feel free to skip it. I know I would if I could. Also, I'm pretty sure I deserve to be shot for this.

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Jim has the crappiest karma McCoy has ever seen. Words: 1300; Title: Garbage

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we're right behind you (go, baby, go go)

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They are big, brownish blobs. At least that's McCoy's first thought. His second is that no matter what Jim says, after this mission he gets tied to the command chair whenever there is an Away Team going out because it's him.

It's always him. The captain must have been a serial killing, child eating Klingon in a past life to have that much bad karma because contrary to popular opinion, it's not every expedition that goes down the drain. Nope, it's only those that Captain James T. Kirk goes on.

Without him, the monsters stay asleep, the sex pollen stays inactive, the natives stay friendly and the poisonous gasses in the air just wait another day to implode. And don't even get the doctor started on all the ridiculous ways the transporters seem to fail whenever Jim's around. How many different kinds of atmospheric interferences can there be?

Back to the matter at hand. Big, brown blobs. With claws and teeth and a grudge. Coming right at him, the esteemed captain and his stoic first officer.

Just another day at the office.

He should have run from that shuttle screaming instead of offering Jim his flask four years ago. He might still have a few more scraps of his sanity left then.

Spock, who is watching the approach of their certain death with the usual detached expression that the doctor swears means he's cackling madly on the inside, says conversationally, "I believe it would be wise to flee and attempt to look for a place in which to find cover from these creatures."

McCoy spins on his heel to do just that, when the first officer's words sink in. "Did you just suggest we play goddamn hide and seek with the mud monsters?"

"Mud monsters?" Jim pipes up from the hobgoblin's other side. "I like that. Mud monsters."

Spock blinks very slowly. "Indeed I did."

Behind them, Mud Monster #1 roars.

They run.

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The last time Leonard McCoy played hide and seek was three years ago, when his daughter arm-twisted him into it under the threat of singing him the new song she learned at school.

He didn't enjoy it then and he sure as hell doesn't enjoy it when it's not his cute, pigtailed daughter doing the searching but a horde of pissed of Mud Monsters (Jim has taken to the term like a duck to water and promptly capitalized it). Nor does he enjoy the fact that he's squished between a Vulcan (who can double as a furnace, no problem) and Jim (who can't even hold still when he's held at hypo-point, much less when he's nervous and trying to see where the monsters went).

He growls as Jim digs his elbow into his ribs again and he involuntarily jerks backwards, almost toppling into Spock's lap. He tries to distract himself by coming up with ways to stop Jim from ever setting foot off the Enterprise again when the captain suddenly flings himself fully to the ground, pulling McCoy along.

"What the fuck-?" he starts cursing by sheer knee-jerk reflex, only to have Jim knee him in the side in an effort to shut him up.

"They're coming," their fearless captain hisses and the doctor doesn't just shut up, he holds his breath and prays to god. Or, in this case, Scotty. Basically the same thing, considering that the Scot is somewhere above their heads, with the power to save them or let them bite it.

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Scotty is probably lying in the turbine room drunk off his ass and singing Christmas carols because five minutes later, they are running again and there's no end in sight.

Plus, it looks like the Mud Monsters have much better stamina than a couple of guys who spend most of their time on a ship, in space, fighting paperwork. And a Vulcan, but as far as McCoy is concerned, those bastards can just try to eat Spock. He'd probably give them indigestion because there is just no way someone that dry and humorless can be tasty. Unless you're used to eating cardboard. Really tough cardboard.

Also, his inner doctor supplies, he's apparently going loopy from adrenaline and sheer blind panic. That and he's pretty sure he hasn't gotten enough oxygen into his poor lungs for at least two minutes.

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The Mud Monsters are closing in, Jim already has a graze in his left side from those claws (just thinking about it gives McCoy the twitches because Mud Monster Claws and Jim's allergic to almost every antibiotic he has for this type of thing) and the only one who looks like he still has a few miles left in him is Spock.

"Hide again?" Jim asks between great heaving breaths.

"Worked damn fine last time, didn't it?"

"I second Doctor McCoy's sentiment." Could he at least try to sound out of breath?

Jim slumps a bit and digs out his comm unit in an attempt to try and hail the Enterprise again. Not that it worked the last ten times but they are running out of options seeing as they can already smell the mud.

"Kirk to Enterprise," Jim wheezes and then is forced to sharply twist out of the way of an incoming claw, almost dropping the comm in the process.

Then, to everyone's infinite relief, Scotty's tinny voice comes over the speakers, "Aye, Captain, what can we do for you?"

It's testament of how exhausted Jim is when he just snaps, "Beam us out now," without the slightest hint of humor in his voice. He ducks again and comes up swinging, slamming a brutal fist into the mouth of one of the Monsters that's about to swipe at him. Great. Now he's probably got a broken hand, too.

They put on one last burst of speed and then stop dead, waiting for Scotty to pick up their signals and upupup, McCoy has never been as glad to smell the stale, recycled air of the Enterprise transporter room as he is right now.

Jim stumbles upon landing and Spock catches him just barely, wrapping an arm around the captain's waist to start dragging him toward medbay and the doctor follows, ripping a tricorder out of some poor nurse's hand and waving it madly at his best friend like it's a magic healing wand.

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Thirty minutes later Jim is patched up and the entire nursing staff has a whole new fear of their CMO. Even he didn't know he could get that nasty.

He waves Chapel (one of the brave few that stuck around after he sent the first two girls out in tears) away and checks briefly to make sure there's no-one around but himself, the captain and the first officer.

Then he gravely turns to Spock and says, "I'm thinking duct tape."

Spock does the eyebrow mambo but seems to catch on pretty quick, despite the illogic of the statement. He nods. "Seeing as how the captain has a tendency to break any and all locks, utilizing a way of binding him that does not, in fact, have any locks, seems like a logical decision."

Jim, still a little loopy from painkillers waves one hand in the air and stutters, "Wait… what?"

"Nothing, Jim, go to sleep," McCoy orders without looking at him, eyes still fixed on the first officer. "You think we can find some on this can?"

A serene nod. "I do think so, yes."

"Good."

Jim tries to speak up again, but McCoy simply reaches over and pats him on the head, free hand stroking a loaded hypo in his pocket.

The captain whimpers.

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