A/N: Happy 50th Star Trek Anniversary, everyone! In honor of the occasion I'm posting a quick comedy I'd almost forgotten I'd written. My other incomplete projects that I'm working on are slowly inching along; I've been pretty busy packing for college and finishing up my flight training. Writing should pick up once again when I'm moved in and settled.

In the meantime, this comedic piece was partially inspired by a throw-away line in 5 Times They Shoved McCoy in a Closet that I figured could have hilarious, totally misconstrued consequences. Different type of humor than what I'm used to, but I'm fond of the result. I hope you enjoy it.

Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise was quite ready to get off the bridge. This sentiment did not occur often; it was akin to finding a four-leaf clover in space. Nevertheless, after a long, not so much exciting as it was simply grueling, shift, he was more than ready to retire for the evening. This expectation was compounded by the fact that he had basically worked overtime- some anomalies had recalled him back to the Big Chair just after the shift officially ended.

Tired, relieved, and looking for some relaxation, he set out in search of Spock and McCoy. The three of them had planned to enjoy dinner together, but when Kirk got summoned back to his post he told them to start without him. They should be nearly finished by now, he realized, but perhaps they were amenable to him popping in anyway.

As he rang Spock's buzzer, he chuckled to himself. Most likely he was showing up at the perfect time to separate the two of them before they went for each other's throats in the heat of debate. It wouldn't be the first time.

The door slid open and revealed Spock staring at him with the blank expression of a frazzled mom who didn't know what century they were in. The Vulcan may have been surprised to see Jim, but he just blinked in a stupefied greeting.

Just as confused, Kirk opened his mouth to ask if he was alright when the details of the room filtered in around his science officer. The first (and foremost) thing he noticed was McCoy. The doctor was flat on his back in the middle of the bed staring vacantly at the ceiling and muttering incoherently. The sheets came up to the middle of his chest (at the very least he was shirtless, Kirk realized) and were tucked neatly under the mattress except for one rebellious corner. His hands, on top of the blankets, twitched slightly as he babbled.

This sight immediately brought Kirk's attention back to Spock who, he suddenly noticed, was not wearing any shoes. Black socks poked out from under casual trousers- civvies, not the standard uniform. It was incredibly incongruent with the blue science uniform shirt he still wore. The heavy smell of plomeek drifted out of the room.

"Spock?" Kirk asked with the best poker face he could muster. "Am I… interrupting anything?"

Spock, for once in his hybrid life, immediately picked up on the underlying subtleties in what Kirk was suggesting. Despite all of his Vulcan control, his eyes went wider than Saturn's rings.

"Captain," he blurted stiffly, clinging to his composure. "I can assure you this is not what it looks like."

"Of course not, Mr. Spock," Kirk nodded, following along sympathetically with the frozen Vulcan. "Then what exactly is it?"

Spock looked behind him into the disorderly (well, not messy, but for a Vulcan it was close to a pigsty) room. Kirk took the opportunity to step inside and let the door shut behind him. There was no need to spread rumors… at least, not until such rumors were either confirmed or denied. He noticed a half-eaten bowl of plomeek soup on the table, and another one overturned on the carpet. There was a crumple of blue fabric not too far from the fallen bowl. Ah. That must be McCoy's shirt. So far he didn't see any other articles of clothing lying around except for two pairs of boots.

His eyes went from the scattered medkit contents on the table by the bowl back to Spock, who was still having trouble understanding that somehow, despite all his meticulousness, his captain had just walked in on him in what appeared to be a questionable scenario. "Spock?" he said, drawing his first officer back to the present. "Just keep it simple: what happened?"

Spock straightened at the instructions on how to proceed. Right. Keep it simple. "The doctor and I were experimenting."

Kirk closed his eyes and pinched his brow. He could still hear McCoy talking nonsensically to the ceiling. The thick drawl only made it harder to understand what he was saying.

"Spock," he began slowly, carefully looking at him. "If you want to convince me that my first assumptions of this situation were incorrect, I suggest you reword what you just said."

For a moment, Kirk thought Spock would pass out.

He held up a hand to stop Spock's urgent protests and put some sense in the matter. "Start from the beginning."

"Very well." Spock straightened again, clasping his hands stiffly behind his back. "Dr. McCoy and I decided to commence with our dinner despite your abrupt departure as planned. However, since it was just the two of us, we brought… extra measures for the dinner conversation."

Kirk's eyebrows raised a little. "Extra measures?" he echoed.

"Indeed. As you may or may not know, the doctor and I have taken… certain medical steps necessary to temper any discussion when not in the presence of a third party."

The jawbreaker may have confused a lesser man, but Kirk was no stranger to Vulcan wordplay. "Certain medical steps?" Spock nodded. "Such as?"

"Barbiturates are one," Spock admitted.

Both of the eyebrows were fully raised. "So without someone else around to intervene, you and McCoy sedate yourselves to keep the argument from getting too heated."

"All within the proper-" Spock immediately started outlining the exact boundaries of such use.

"Spock, that's fine, I trust you, I trust Bones…" he dragged a hand across his chin. Truthfully, he was unsure if he should be laughing till his sides split at the moment. The problem and solution were so perfectly them.

"So, you and Dr. McCoy employed such methods tonight," he confirmed.

"Indeed," Spock answered. "However, we were looking to change up the particular material used, so that it may not lose its potency. There are a variety of mild sedatives- on occasion I have used an old tea recipe to subdue any tempers-"

"Tempers, Spock?" Kirk asked, amused.

Spock blinked. "Obviously, not my own," he asserted. "But the doctor has pointed out that in the heart of a debate I become 'snarky' as he termed it, and so also submit to such calming measures."

Kirk swallowed a giggle and bit the inside of his cheek. "Of course."

"Tonight we knew we were going to discuss the recent biological study on anaerobic fungi- it had some fascinating theories on the subject of decay in space-"

"Scathing!" McCoy suddenly contributed, startling Kirk.

"-and about halfway through we decided that we needed the sedative. We do attempt to get through such discussions without anything, Jim, but have yet to succeed."

"It's fine, keep going."

"Since we are still searching for which works best (most have needed an alteration, to put simply, and it is very hard to determine the dosage for a future problem instead of a present one) a different sedative was slated for this evening to see how it would do. Dr. McCoy went first." Spock stopped abruptly, as if that explained everything.

Kirk glanced at Bones on the bed, the bowl on the floor, the boots scattered about, and the blank expression on Spock's face. "And?"

"… we must have miscalculated the dosage."

Kirk found it a little hard to believe that the two most brilliant scientists on the ship had miscalculated the dosage for a light sedative to reign in opposing passions. "Say again, Spock?"

"We must have miscalculated the dosage."

"How?" Kirk dragged out, willing the Vulcan to understand.

"I… am not entirely certain. We were still discussing the implications of such a discovery… the sedative was simply a side issue…"

Kirk could understand now. It was all too easy to see McCoy, worked up in an emotional fit, press a little too hard on the hypospray. Or both of them were simply distracted… come to think of it, Kirk had always stopped their arguments before they got too nasty, so just how bad did things get when no one else was around?

Sedating the two debaters was probably not just a good idea, but a brilliant one.

"So McCoy took a little too much of the stuff and really loosened up, huh?" Kirk summarized.

"Put simply," Spock tilted his head.

"Go on."

Why must you do this to me? the immobile facial expression said.

"'Loose' is a rather apt description, Captain. Dr. McCoy fell out of his seat almost immediately. I attempted to catch him, but one of his limbs knocked over his bowl and spilled plomeek on his shirt and my trousers. I pulled him away from the table- I believe he has lost all motor control."

"Seems like it," Kirk murmured, looking at McCoy. He was still seriously out of it.

"Indeed. I tried to get him to his feet, suggesting that he return to his quarters, but that task proved… surprisingly difficult."

"Never got entangled with a drunk man, before?" Kirk grinned.

Spock paused. "The doctor is not drunk."

"I know just… never mind."

"After realizing that any attempt to move the doctor over a large distance was futile, I determined that the simplest solution was to simply place him on the bed while the effects wore off. I removed his shirt, because of the plomeek, and then changed into fresher trousers myself."

"And civvies were the ones on top?"

Spock ignored him. "I was finishing up securing the doctor and cleaning the mess when you arrived."

Kirk knew which details Spock had glossed over, which was fine because they remained for all to see. Spock had tucked McCoy in, removing his boots, and seemed ready for the doctor to just sleep it off. Even now, he moved to collect the bowl from the floor and finally wrestle that last untucked corner into submission.

"Well, Spock," he said. "I don't see what anyone would have done differently in your situation. I trust your judgement and will check in on your progress in the morning." He paused for a moment. "Would you want to stay in McCoy's quarters since he's taken up yours?"

"Negative, Captain," Spock said, a bit more relieved now that the story was over. "I shall meditate for tonight."

"Alright, then. Goodnight, Spock."

"Goodnight."

"Hey!" McCoy's head bolted up. His eyes were abnormally dilated as he picked out Spock in the room. "I'm not done yet, Greenie! Radioactive decay!"

Kirk stuffed his fist in his mouth as McCoy, unable to find his way out of the secured sheets, chattered for Spock to get over here. He ran out of the room to spare his friends any witnesses to the following debate. Spock would be thoroughly mortified if someone watched him argue with a drugged man.

He was almost back to his quarters when he collapsed. A few ensigns were startled (and probably traumatized) as their captain hit the deck howling with laughter and clutching his sides. Absolutely nobody was going to believe this.

Early the next morning, Kirk greeted a pensive McCoy in the mess hall. The doctor had a bleary, but focused look on his face as he sipped his coffee. Kirk sat down across from him and put on his sunniest smile.

"So how did things go with Spock last night?"

McCoy gave him a weird look over the steam from his mug. "I honestly have no idea."

Kirk almost choked on his eggs but smoothed it down. "Oh? Why's that?"

"I don't know." McCoy continued to stare at his coffee. "I actually don't remember much."

"You don't?" Keep it cool, keep it cool.

"Not really. Some flashes here and there." He got a wild look in his eye. "But this morning… damnedest thing."

"What?" Kirk asked innocently.

McCoy looked up at him, still wild-eyed, and glanced around as if anyone else might hear. "I don't know what we were drinking," he said. "But I woke up this morning still in Spock's quarters, in his bed, with my shirt and boots off." He chugged some more coffee for courage.

"And as I'm sitting up trying to figure out how the hell I got there and what the hell happened he comes walkin' outta the bathroom all ready for work, sees me, and says in the most dead-pan voice 'It's not what it looks like'. Then leaves!"

Kirk snorted, started laughing, then choked on his eggs. McCoy, rolling his eyes, pushed himself up and began administering the Heimlich. Spock entered at precisely that moment and watched as the two men struggled against the lodged eggs. The captain's airway cleared, and as soon as he had breath he was laughing so hard that he was crying while McCoy scowled and hit his back a few solid times. Spock raised an eyebrow. Humans.