A/N: Hey, y'all! Vacation was amazing, I went to Glacier National Park and Yellowstone, saw bears, mountain goats, bison, elk, all the things! And this week I just started a new job, and promptly got what I believe is shaping up to be a sinus infection (not Covid, don't worry). It's the dry air, I swear. Everytime I go to the high desert I get a sinus infection. Ugh. Anyways, I forgot what day it was, technically it's still Friday, have some teenage shenanigans a day late. :)

"It's March 28th," Elle realized.

"And?" Jetta asked.

Elle grinned at their assembled study group. "April Fools' is just around the corner."

"What is that?" Satel asked.

Elle gaped at him. "What do you mean what is that?"

"Is it a holiday?" Satel asked. "A religious observance?"

Nicole snorted. "Absolutely not."

Elle started to grin. "It's not a holiday, per se, but it's a tradition. Point being, we need to figure out who to prank. Ideally, someone on the bridge."

Wesley's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"Yes!" Tyler said, holding his hand out for a high-five from the twins.

"I am still confused," Satel stated.

"It's the one day that you can prank people without social stigma or repercussions," Elle explained. "It can be dumb stuff like handing someone a piece of electric gum, or like, a glob of lotion in a handshake, or it can be really complicated stuff. Sulu and Chekov helped me rig all the chairs on the bridge so every time anyone sat down the chairs would let out a little toot. Like a horn sound, not like, a bodily function sound. There's a fine line between funny and crude," she informed them, pleased to see Wesley turning red.

"We can't prank the senior officers," he hissed. "We'd get kicked off the bridge for sure! Thrown out an airlock!"

Elle conceded the point. "Okay, so we ask for permission," she said. "And then we prank just one. Not the captain, but someone else."

"Not Worf," Jetta said. "He'd kill us for reals."

"You're crazy," Wesley said, but he was softening.

"And?" Elle asked hopefully.

He sighed. "And we should probably ask Counselor Troi."

She clapped him on the back. "Nice. We need a plan though."

"Commander Riker," Tyler said. "He has the best sense of humor, and that way the captain can laugh at him for once."

"An astute observation," Satel said, which was Vulcan for 'I'm on board.'

"Excellent," Elle said. "Who wants to come with me to ask Counselor Troi?"

Everyone turned to look at Wesley. He sighed.

Troi answered the door and invited them in. "What are you two up to?" she asked, sensing their mischief.

"April Fools Day is in a few days," Elle said. "We'd like permission to prank an officer."

Troi raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Commander Riker," Elle said. "He won't get offended, right?"

Troi suppressed a smile. "I highly doubt it. Who all is in on this and what do you want to actually do?"

"Uh, the twins, Tyler, Satel, and us," Wesley said. "And we don't know yet."

"Nothing bad, though," Elle said. "That's against our motto."

"Our motto?" Wesley asked blankly. "We have a motto?"

"Amuse, don't abuse," Elle said. "Harmless, but hilarious. Irritate, don't humiliate."

Troi snickered. "You sound like you know what you're doing."

"The original Enterprise pranksters instilled in me their honor code," Elle said solemnly. "Only to be done on April 1st."

"Very well, then," Troi said, mock-solemnly. "Consider permission granted."

"Yes!" Elle high-fived Wesley. "Thank you, Deanna. It'll be great." She linked her elbow with Wesley's and tugged him back to the study group's place near the fountain. "Okay, you guys, we got permission, Mission Prank Number One is a go. What are we gonna do?"

They tossed around some ideas, "absolutely NO GLITTER, I like my ankles intact thank you," and arrived at the ideal amusing-yet-not-abusing plan of action.

"Perfect," Elle said smugly. "This is going to be so good. Wesley, you're the best at programming, you work on the tracking program. I'll get the camera angles. Jetta, Nicole, you guys work with Satel and brief everybody who's going to be on the bridge tomorrow. We need them to play their parts. And Tyler, you're in charge of choosing the music."

-/\-

Stardate 43401.3

From the point of view of Commander Riker, recorded for posterity by the Enterprise security cameras.

Commander William Riker woke up, contemplated existence for exactly three minutes, and rolled out of bed with a sigh for his lower back. His bedroom door slid open with a faint, musical hoot. He paused in the doorway, then shook his head. He trimmed his beard, got dressed in exercise clothes, and ordered a grand slam breakfast.

The replicator announced the materialization of three pancakes, two eggs, and two pieces of bacon with a soulful 'waa'.

Commander Riker glared at the replicator with narrowed eyes. "Did you update?" he asked, and sniffed at his breakfast. Finding no evidence of tampering, he ate breakfast.

"Coffee order one," Riker said, staring intently at the replicator.

The replicator whirred obediently and produced no outstanding noises.

"I need more sleep," Riker grumbled, and moved on with his day.

He drank his coffee on the way to the gym. The door slid open with another faint hoot. More of a toot, really.

Commander Riker did not notice, intent on snagging his preferred exercise machine.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped off the treadmill and turned off the machine. It powered down with a toodle-o.

Riker glanced at it and thought nothing of it.

He did some stretching and cool down and returned to his quarters. He entered the bathroom, exited the bathroom twenty minutes later, hair wet. He turned on the hair dryer. Over the whirr of the hair dryer, the faint tune of a trombone solo hit his ears.

Riker turned the hair dryer off. No music. He shook his head and turned the hair dryer back on. The music started up again. He ignored it, as stated later, thinking of it as a figment of his imagination.

He finished styling his hair and left his quarters, heading for the bridge. The turbolift doors opened with a sharp toot of a trombone. He stared at it suspiciously. "Computer, make a note to maintenance about oiling this turbolift door. Sounds like a trombone."

"Acnkowledged," the computer said. "Now commencing elevator music." The speakers began to play a mellow rendition of 'Blue Bells of Scotland' by Arthur Pryor.

Riker smiled genially. "Are we personalizing the turbolift experience?" he asked.

"Query not recognized," the computer answered primly.

"Of course not."

The turbolift doors opened, and Data entered the lift. "Good morning, Commander."

"Data." Riker gestured to the lift. "Who set up the elevator music on the lifts? It was a nice music choice."

Data gave one carefully calculated blink to indicate polite confusion. "Commander?"

"You don't hear..." Riker trailed off, registering the silence of the turbolift. "Never mind. I could've sworn I heard music."

"The auditory processing system in humans does seem to replay music that a person has heard before," Data provided helpfully. "I myself can replay and analyze twenty different melodies at the same time."

"I see," Riker said.

The doors opened with a one-two toot.

Riker stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around.

"Number One?" Picard asked, staring at him strangely.

Riker lowered his hand sheepishly. "Sorry, captain. Good morning. I think I got water in my ears."

"Ah."

Riker sat down in his chair, and ignored the 'waaa-waaaa' of the trombone as he sat down.

The next ninety minutes did not produce any more noises. Until Riker circled the bridge, had a conversation with Worf, and sat back down. As he lowered himself into his seat, a loud 'whaa-waaaaaaa' trombone sounded.

Riker shot out of his chair, wild-eyed. "Okay, who's doing that?"

"Doing what, Number One?" Picard asked blandly.

"Doing-" Riker sputtered. "The noise! There's been trombone noises following me all day!"

Picard's upper lip twitched. "Has there?"

Riker glared at the assembled bridge officers who were staring at him, innocence on their faces. He sat back down, to the glorious sound effect of a trombone. He put his hand over his face, to the mournful whoop of a trombone. "It's April Fools' Day," he realized, and the trombone blared triumphantly.

Picard smirked. "Is it, Commander?"

Riker stared back at him. "I can't believe you're in on this."

Picard just grinned at him.

Riker shook his head, starting to smile. "Pretty good joke, though. Who programmed it?"

"Ah, Number One, that would be telling," Picard said, snickering.

"It was Elle, wasn't it."

"..."

Riker snorted. "Nice." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. "I haven't participated in April Fools' since I was a kid."

"What's the last thing you did?" Troi asked.

Riker grinned. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that yet. Ask me again in about five years."

"Will."

He snickered and stood up to consult with Data about something.

The trombone sound followed him.

Riker whipped around. "Okay, okay, I got the joke," he said.

Data observed him, deadpan. "Perhaps I should inform you that the program is automated to register your movements," he said.

Riker frowned. "What does that mean? Is that noise going to follow me around all day?"

"Yes, commander."

"ELLE!" Riker stormed off the bridge, accompanied by William-Tell-style trombone thunder.

The bridge collapsed into laughter. Troi tapped her commbadge, still laughing. "Troi to Elle, he's on his way."

"Acknowledged!"

On Deck 12, in an out-of-the-way lounge, six teenagers promptly packed up and scattered to the winds.

Riker tracked down Elle's last location and entered the room to a trombone triumphant blare. "Elle!" The room was empty, except for a computer running a complex tracking program. "Computer, cancel Riker Tracking Program," he said, reading the program title off the screen.

"Canceled," the computer replied. "Would you like to cancel the Trombone Trail subroutine?"

"Yes," Riker said firmly.

"Canceled. Happy April Fools' Day, Commander Riker." With those words, the replicator in the lounge released a giant poof of confetti into the air, and replicated a giant mug of his preferred coffee.

Riker took the cup of coffee and tasted it, fully expecting salt instead of sugar. It tasted normal. "You're forgiven," he told the air, completely aware that the teens were watching him. "Good prank. Next year, though, I'm on to you."

-/\-

In one of the botany labs, Elle and Wesley shared a glance. "Maybe next year we can team up with him to prank someone else," Elle said thoughtfully. "Redirect his revenge."

"Worf?" Wesley suggested.

Elle grinned. "I like the way you think."