A/N: I can only take half-credit for this, as it was inspired by the Supernatural fic "In a Pickle" by Mummyluvr. It's super funny, any Supernatural fans should check it out!

A Real Pickle

The away mission had gone surprisingly well, everyone was thinking. Despite the strange (and admittedly really creepy) magic that the natives had been practicing, the away team had managed to hold perfectly reasonable negotiations with them. Everything had gone great! The Enterprise's captain was feeling especially proud of himself. For once, an away mission without any weird consequences – it was a very nice change.

…but, of course, that never happens. Silly crew. They really should have known better.

Because now Jim was looking at a pickle on the transporter pad.

"…Scotty?"

Scotty was looking at the pickle in question in equal bewilderment. "Aye?"

"…why is there a pickle on the transporter pad?"

There was a long silence as Scotty contemplated this very important question. Slowly, a look of horror dawned on the Scottish man's face. "The transporters have been actin' weird lately, but I didn't think…" He turned to face his Captain, looking weirdly close to tears. That got Jim's attention. The only other thing he had seen his chief engineer look this upset over was on a planet they'd visited a few months ago where they sacrificed sandwiches. That hadn't been pretty. (And whenever someone insulted the Enterprise, of course.)

But that was it. Seeing as neither scenario seemed to apply, the captain could only assume this was a very serious matter.

"Scotty… What is it?"

The Scottish man looked away. "I'm so sorry. Ah was goin' to beam up the commander like he told me to, and… and…"

"And what?" Now Jim was legitimately getting worried.

Scotty took a deep, sorrowful breath of air. "The transporters have been actin' up, and now they've turned Spock into a pickle."

Spock? …A pickle? "Are you serious, Scotty? How do you know?" Jim demanded.

"He told me to beam 'im up at this time and place, ah did, and a pickle came up." Scotty hung his head. "Ah take full responsibility."

So that was it, then. The Vulcan was a pickle. Jim stared long and hard at the vegetable in front of him, trying to see something resembling Spock in it. But the pickle just stared back at him without eyes. And it was getting juice all over the transporter pad.

… "Let's get Bones."

"…so you're telling me the hobgoblin is now a pickle. Uh-huh." Bones sounded very unappreciative of this fact. "Really, kid, this is the weirdest joke you've tried to pull since the Academy."

"It's no' a joke, doctor," Scotty lamented solemnly.

Bones just snorted, and gingerly picked up the pickle. It was sticky.

Jim gave him a look of horror. "Bones, Spock's already had a really stressful day. Now you're breaking his bubble of space."

"…Jim. In all my medical expertise glory, let me tell you something; this is a pickle. Not a hobgoblin."

There was a moment of silence as they all looked at the pickle. They had the strangest sensation that the pickle was staring back at them.

"Alright," Bones muttered, shaking his head as doubt started to creep into his mind. Maybe… maybe the hobgoblin was a pickle? Did that mean he was manhandling a pickle? "This is insane. Do you two have any evidence that this is a Vulcan pickle?"

Jim blinked at him. "Evidence?"

Bones dead-panned. "Yeah. You know. Proof."

There was a moment of silence as the captain and chief engineer considered this. Eventually Scotty offered, "Ah suppose we could try commin' him. If there was a mistake and ah… jus' beamed up a pickle instead… then the commander'd answer."

Jim nodded. It sounded like a fool-proof plan. Logical. Spock never left his communicator on away missions. If he didn't answer, then it would be because he wasn't physically able to - AKA he was a pickle. Bones just rolled his eyes as if to say that he wasn't getting paid nearly enough for this. (Which he totally was.)

"Mr. Spock, come in," Jim said with an air of shaky professionalism into the communicator. There was a tense silence, and… Nothing happened. Jim tried again with the same result.

Nothing. The three exchanged a foreboding look as the waited for something – anything – to come from Spock's communicator.

The only sound in the room was the loud silence of the pickle staring at them in sticky disapproval.

"Tha' settles it, then," Scotty said after a long and mournful silence. He bit his lip. "Ahm so sorry, Mr. Spock."

The pickle said nothing.

Bones just looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. Finally he muttered, "I'm sorry I never told you how much I care about you, hobgoblin." A little overcome with emotion, his southern drawl was much more pronounced. "I know we get into disagreements a lot and everythin', but you're the best first officer a CMO could want, and…and…" Too overcome to continue, he bowed his head as Scotty gave him an understanding pat on the back.

Oh so carefully, Jim lifted the pickle off the transporter pad as if it was the most delicate thing in the world. "You're going to be okay, Spock," he muttered to it. "I promise." The pickle's silence seemed to the trio desolately disbelieving. "I'll talk to Starfleet about it, Spock," Jim promised the sullen pickle. "I won't let them do anything weird to you. You're going to stay with us, and we're still going to explore the universe together." He pated the pickle softly as Scotty quietly wiped away a tear at their beautifully enduring friendship.

Having pulled himself together enough for words, Bones managed, "Hobgoblin, we all care about ya'. We're family, and…and we'll accept ya' no matter what." His face was hopelessly red in a blush, but he felt that he needed to get the words out to the Vulcan who was likely feeling so alone.

Jim nodded to the pickle, for all his 'captainly composure' seeming a bit overcome. "Yeah, we… We love you, man." The three men all nodded shakily at this, overwhelmed by the sense of family that they had in each other and in the pickle lying in Jim's palms.

…then the communicator made a noise.

"This is first officer Spock ready for beam-up, come in Enterprise."

It was unmistakably their first officer's voice.

There was a moment of horrified silence.

"…Enterprise?"

"A-aye, commander," Scotty somehow managed. "Ah'll beam ya' up straight away."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," came the smooth reply.

Bones' face was a very interesting mix of colors. "Why didn't you pick up your communicator, you hobgoblin?!"

"The natives disclosed a common cultural practice to me that the body should be free of outside objects before entering the negotiation room. I perceived it to be only logical to concede with this practice. The discussion took approximately 12.78 minutes longer than I had previously anticipated, and I was thus unable to reach the previously agreed-upon beam-up point until now. I apologize for any concerns I may have caused, Doctor."

Bones spluttered, "Apologize! You 'apologize.' You–"

Scotty cut the doctor off, "Ah'll beam ya up right away."

The three men exchanged a look. And in that moment of mutual embarrassment, they reached a silent understanding – the understanding that they would never, ever, mention this to anyone. Not even amongst themselves, and especially not to Spock. And they never did.

The poor native on Thydra Prime never did know where his pickle went.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I know it sure made me giggle writing it. XD I'm thinking about starting a series of funny/crazy one-shots. No promises about when I might be able to update, but what do you guys think?